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FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.  D.  D. 


BEQUEATHED   BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 

SCO 


Secti< 


Cfec  Jfuder  Mortbtes'  f  thar^. 


THE 


COMPLETE  POEMS  OF  ROBERT  SOUTHWELL, 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

ST.  PETER'S  COMPLAINT.    MYRT.E,  OR  MTRTLE-WREATHS. 

M.«ONLE.     MELOFOLIA,  OR  APPLES  IN  LEAVES. 

POEMATA  LATINA. 


LONDON : 
ROBSON  AND  SONS,  PRINTERS,  PANCRAS  ROAD,  N.W. 


/ 

mn  iuKer  Mortbics'  f ibranr. 


THE  COMPLETE  POEMS 


ROBERT   SOUTHWELL 

S.J. 


FOR  THE  FIRST  TIME  FULLY  COLLECTED  AND 

COLLATED  WITH  THE  ORIGINAL  AND  EARLY  EDITIONS  AND  MSS. 

AND  ENLARGED  WITH 

HITHERTO  UNPRINTED  AND  INEDITED  POEMS  FROM  MSS.  AT 

STONYHURST  COLLEGE,  LANCASHIRE, 

AND  ORIGINAL  ILLUSTRATIONS  AND  FACSIMILES  IN  THE 

QUARTO  FORM, 


EDITED,  WITH  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION  AND  NOTES, 

BY  THE  / 

REV.  ALEXANDER  B.  GROSART, 

ST.  GEORGE'S,  BLACKBURN,  LANCASHIRE. 


V 


-^NAV  of  PR/iV, 

NOV  20  m 


^Cmi  8E1A' 


PRINTED  FOR  PRIVATE  CIRCULATION. 

1872. 
100  copies  only. 


THE  REV.  JA]\[ES  MARTINEAU,  M.A. 

AS  AUTHOR  OF 

'  ENDEAVOURS  AFTER  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE,' 

TO  WHICH,  IN  COMMON  WITH  MULTITUDES,  I  OWE   MUCH, 

AND  TO  WHOM 
NOT  ADMIRATION  ONLY  BUT  LOVE  IS  FELT  BY  ALL  OF  US, 

I  DEDICATE 

THIS  EDITION  OF  A  '  .^WEET  SINGER  ;' 

REMAINING  VERY  GRATEFULLY 

ALEXANDER  B.  GROSART. 


CONTENTS. 


I  place  on  the  left  figures  1 ,  2,  3,  &c.  in  these  Contents,  in  order  to  show 
the  sequence  of  the  Poems  in  the  Author's  Stonyhurst  MS.  volume.  There  is 
no  title-page  to  it,  and  never  has  been.  On  the  seventh  page  (three  leaves 
blank)  begins  the  Letter  to  his  Father  (pp.  29).  Next  three  pages  blank ; 
then  the  Triumphs  ouer  Death  (pp.  33) — the  last  page  and  half  containing  the 
Latin  and  English  poems  as  printed  by  us  (pp.  18-.'-3).  After  the  Latin  and 
Enghsh  verse  on  the  Lady  of  the  Howard  family,  there  are  other  three  pages 
blank,  then  comes  the  Preface,  commencing  '  Poets,  by  abusing,'  &o.  (2  pp.) 
Then,  to  the  Reader,  and  the  poems  in  succession  as  numbered.  Tlie  Poems 
occupy  36  leaves  and  part  of  a  page  =  72  or  73  pages,  with  five  blank  leaves. 
The  Prose  occupies  31^  pp.  G. 


Dedication 

Preface       ...... 

Memorial-Introduction.     I.  The  Life 

II.  The  Writings . 


PAGE 


XXXV 

Ixvi 


I.  St.  Pkter's  Compl.\int,  1-55 


II.  Myut-k,  ok  Myrtle-Wreaths,  57-112. 

27.  Mary  Magdalen's  Blushe •         •  59 

33.  Mary  Magdalen's  Complaint  at  Christ's  Deatli      .         .         .62 

44.  Tymes  goe  by  turnes    ........  64 

43.  Looke  Home 65 

4J>.  Fortune's  Falsehoode   ........  66 

52.  Scorne  not  the  Leaste 68 

15.  A  Childe  my  Choyse 70 

51.  Content  and  Ritche      ........  72 


VUl 

45. 
46. 
37. 
39. 
40. 
41. 
42. 
47. 
48. 
50. 
30. 
■29. 
19. 
18. 
17. 
16. 


CONTENTS. 


Losse  in  Delaye  . 

Love's  Servile  Lott 

Life  is  but  Losse  . 

I  dye  alive   . 

What  Joy  to  live 

Life's  Death,  Love's  Life 

At  Home  in  Heaven     . 

Lewd  Love  is  Losse 

Love's  Gardyne  Greife 

From  Fortmie's  Reach 

Dyer's  Phancy  turned  to  a  S 

David's  Peccavi   . 

Synne's  heavy  Loade    . 

New  Prince,  New  Pompe 

The  Burning  Babe 

New  Heaven,  New  Warre 


III.  M.EONi.E,  1 13- if 

Note     .... 

The  Conception  of  our  Ladie 

Our  Ladle's  Nativitye  . 

Our  Ladj-e's  Spousalls . 

Our  Ladle's  Salutation 

Josephe's  Amazement  . 

The  Visitation 

The  Nativity  of  Chris'e 

The  Circumcision 

The  Epiphanye    . 

The  Presentation . 

The  Flight  into  Egipt . 

Christe's  Retome  out  of  Egipt 

Christe's  Childhoode    . 

Christ's  Bloody  Sweate 

Christe's  Sleeping  Frendes 

The  Virgin  Marv  to  Christ  ou  tiie  Crosse 


inner's  Complainte 


TAGE 

75 
78 
81 
84 

85 
86 
88 
90 
92 

94 

96 

103 

loS 
107 
109 
no 


114 
116 
117 
119 

120 

122 
126 
128 
130 

134 
13s 
136 

137 
138 
141 


CONTENTS. 

13.  The  Death  of  our  Ladie 

14.  The  Assumption  of  our  Lady 
23.  Saint  Thomas  of  Aquines  Ilymne  read  on 

Daye 

26.  Saint  Peter's  Afflicted  Mynde 
28.  Saint  Peter's  Remorse  . 

Man  to  the  Wound  in  Christ's  Side 

Vpon  the  Image  of  Death    . 

31.  A  Vale  of  Teares  .... 

32.  The  Prodigall  Chyld's  Soule  Wracke 
3G.  Man's  Civill  Warre 
38.  Seeke  Flowers  of  Heaven     . 


IV.  Melo FOLIA,  OR  Apples  in  Leaves,  169- if 
34.  Decease,  Release.     Dum  morior,  orior  . 


35.  I  dye  without  Desert    .         .         .         • 
24.  Of  the  Blessed  Sacrament  of  the  Aulter 

Laments  for  a  Noble  Lady  . 

To  the  Christian  Reader  of  '  Short  Rvles  of  Good  Life' 


Corp 


IX 

PAGE 

.    142 

•    143 


IS  Christy 


144 
149 
150 
153 
155 
158 
162 
16s 
167 


171 

173 
177 

182 
184 


V.    POEMATA  LaTINA,  189-215. 

Poema  de  Assumptione  B.V.M.    .         .         . 
Filii  Prodigi  Porcos  pascentis  ad  Patrem  Epistola 
Fragment  of  a  Series  of  Elegies  .... 

Jesus.   Marye 

Ad  Sanctam  Catherinam,  Virginem  et  Marty  rem 
In  Renovationem  Votorum,  Festis  Natalis  Domini 
In  Festum  Pentecostes,  Anno  Dommi  1580,  21  Maii 

Additional  Notes  and  Illustrations 


191 
199 
206 
212 
213 
214 
214 

216 


X  CONTENTS. 

Illustrations  in  the  illustrated  Quarto  only. 

I,  Jesus  Christ,  after  Leonardo  da  Vinci  .       Fac'mff  title-iMgu 

(See  Preface,  pages  xxxii.-iii.) 
II,  Fac-simUe  of  Title-page  of  1596  edition       .         .         .         P-     2 
(See  Preface,  page  xiv.) 

III.  Fac-similes  from  Stonyhurst  Mss ^4 

(See  Preface,  pages  xxviii.  and  xxxii. 


.^.^ 


PREFACE. 


Vexed  by  the  travesties  on  editing  and  mere  careless- 
ness of  Walter  earlier  (1817)  and  Turnbull  later 
(1856)  in  their  so-called  editions  of  the  Poems  of  Fa- 
ther Southwell — of  both  of  which  more,  with  specific 
proofs,  in  the  sequel  —  I  had  long  wished  worthily  to 
reproduce  this  'sweet  Singer;'  and  having  fortunately 
come  into  possession  of  the  original  and  early  editions 
—  each  rarer  and  costlier  than  another  —  and  a  still 
more  fortunate  ^JimV  of  his  own  mss.  in  Stonyhurst 
College — all  of  which  were  cordially  and  unreservedly 
placed  at  my  service  by  the  Rector,  the  very  Reverend 
Father  Furbrick,  S.J., — I  am  at  last  enabled  to  do 
so,  not  without  a  '  good  hope'  of  grateful  acceptance  by 
competent  students  and  lovers  of  our  poetic  Literature. 

I  would  now  give  account  of  previous  editions,  and 
thereafter  show  what  we  have  tried  to  accomplish  in  ad- 
vance of  them. 

As  distinguished  from  some  of  his  Prose  Writings, 
which  were  furtively  printed  in  his  own  house  in  Lon- 
don (1593-4), 1  the  Poems  of  Southwell  were  wholly 

'  Father  John  Gerard,  the  Poet's  friend,  is  our  authority. 
His  ■words  are  :  '  P.  Southwellus,  qui  in  modo  juvaudi  et  lucraudi 
animos  excelluit,  totus  iirudens  et  pius,  mansuetus  etiam  et  am- 
abilis  ....  in  domo  sua  Londini  prelum  hahuit  ad  imprimendos 


rosTHUMous,  although,  from  the  Epistles  to  his  'louing 
cosen'  and  to  the  Reader  prefixed  to  St,  Peter's  Com- 
plaint and  related  pieces  (1595  and  in  after-editions), 
it  is  clear  that  he  had  himself  intended  their  publication. 
Our  collation  of  the  Poems  in  the  Stonyhurst  mss.  re- 
veals that  originally  and  continuously  they  have  suffered 
from  the  ^Yant  of  the  Author's  own  supervision :  for 
over  and  over,  as  our  Notes  show,  there  are  most  an- 
noying misreadings  and  misprints,  whereby  epithets 
bright  as  dew  are  changed  (so -to -say)  into  blotches 
of  ink,  and  the  meaning  reversed,  and  delicacies  not 
only  missed  but  absolutely  spoiled,  as  in  rough  handling 
of  a  moth's  wing.  Certainly  his  small  and  difficult  hand- 
writing offers  an  excuse  for  the  original  Editors. 

The  following  is  the  title-page  of  the  first  edition 
(1595),  from  the  Capell  copy  preserved  in  Trinity  Col- 
lege, Cambridge  : 

Saint 

Peters 

Complaint, 

IVii/i  other  Poancs. 


Printer's  ornament. 


London 
Imprinted  by  lohn  Wolfe. 

1595- 


lihros  suos,  quos  (luidem  edidit  egi-egios.'  (ms.  Autobiogi-aphy  of 
Father  Gerard,  quoted  by  the  very  Reverend  Dr.  Oliver  iu  the 
Catholic  Magazine  for  Septemher  1832.) 


PREFACE.  XIU 

The  collation  is  38  leaves  in  forms — signatures  A  to  K^ 
— ending  witli  '  From  Fortune's  Reach  ;'  and  it  may  be 
noted  that  the  two  leaves  C  and  C^  (pp.  11-14)  of  the 
undated  [1596]  edition,  beginning  '  Euill  president'  &c. 
and  closing  '  Darts  of  disdaine'  &c.  are  omitted  in  that 
place  and  inserted  after  '  Come  in,  say  they'  &c.  (p.  30 
of  159 G  edit.),  so  as  to  form  sigs,  E  and  E-.  This  thin 
quarto,  which  is  identical  with  another  of  the  same  date, 
'  At  London,  Printed  by  I.  R.  for  G.  C.  1595'  [  =  James 
Roberts  for  Gabriel  Cawood],  contained  St.  Peter's  Com- 
plaint and  these  shorter  poems :  Mary  Magdalen's  Blushe ; 
Mary  Magdalen's  Complaint  at  Christ's  Death ;  Tymes 
goe  by  Turns;  Looke  Home;  Fortune's  Falsehoode; 
Scorne  not  the  Leaste;  A  Childe  my  Choice;  Content 
and  Ritche ;  Losse  in  Delaye ;  Love's  servile  Lott ;  Life 
is  but  Losse ;  I  dye  Alive ;  What  Joy  to  live ;  Life's 
Death,  Love's  Life ;  At  Home  in  Heaven ;  Lewd  Love  is 
Losse;  Love's  Gardyne  Greife ;  From  Fortune's  Reach ; 
The  Nativity  of  Christe  ;  Christe's  Childhoode, — the  last 
two  coming  in  between  Scorne  not  the  Leaste  and  aChylde 
my  Choyse.  With  the  exceptions  above  noted,  the  1595 
and  1596  editions  correspond  page  for  page  as  far  as  p.  46. 
Following  this  volume  speedily  was  the  '  Mjeoniaj' 
of  the  same  year,  1595.  Its  title-page  will  be  found  at 
page  115,  with  relative  Epistle  by  the  Publisher  (John 
Busbie) — not,  be  it  noted,  named  as,  but  in  all  probabiUty 
really,  the  Publisher  of  '  St.  Peter's  Complaint  and  other 
Poems.'  This  volume,  of  which  a  beautiful  copy  is  in 
Jesus  College,  Oxford,  contained  those  additional  Poems 
ever  since  printed  under  the  title  of  '  Mseonia^.'  It  was 
a  precious  gift  John  Busbie  gave  in  *  Ma3onia3 :'  for 
there  can  be  no  question  that  in  these  relatively  minor 


Xiv  PREFACE. 

poems  we  have  Southwell  at  his  deepest,  tenderest, 
and  best.  Issued  in  1595,  these  two  volumes  must  have 
been  read  by  those  whose  eyes  were  yet  wet  from  weep- 
ing over  their  Author's  tragic  end. 

The  next  edition  of  the  Poems  is  without  date,  but 
I  assign  it,  after  careful  thought,  to  1596  (early).  Its 
title-page  is  given  in  fac-simile  in  our  illustrated  quarto 
edition :  the  '  wording'  of  it  at  page  3.  It  will  be 
noticed  that  this  edition  bears  to  be  '  Newly  augmented 
with  other  Poems.'  These  augmentations  were  not  'Mfe- 
oniee' — which  is  not  included  in  it  even  to  the  extent  of 
a  single  poem — but  the  following :  A  Phancy  turned  to 
a  Sinner's  Complainte  ;  David's  Peccavi ;  Synne's  heavy 
Loade;  Josephe's  Amazement;  New  Prince,  new  Pompe; 
The  Burning  Babe ;  New  Heaven,  new  Warre.  The  col- 
lation is  42  leaves  :  and  throughout,  this  edition  agrees 
in  its  contents  with  that  of  1G15  (4to).  My  accomplished 
friend  Deputy-Inspector-General  Dr.  Brinsley  Nichol- 
son has  favoured  me  with  full  notes  on  William  Leake  . 
the  Publisher  of  this  undated  edition,  whereby  it  appears 
that  he  was  a  somewhat  humble  and  often- changing 
Bookseller  from  about  1594-5  (at  latest)  onward  for  a 
decade  (at  least).  He  has  also  called  my  attention  to 
the  head-pieces  and  tail-pieces  ornamenting  the  volume, 
specially  that  '  bluff  King  Hal,'  and  early  incidents  of 
the  Keformation,  are  (seemingly)  introduced  into  them. 
But  inasmuch  as  these  were  common  to  other  contem- 
porary books,  it  is  scarcely  worth  while  recording  the 
details,  save  that  I  invite  critical  readers  to  solve  the 
meaning  of  the  monogram  in  the  title-page,  as  shown 
in  our  fac-simile.  It  has  the  look  of  a  combination  of 
R.  S.  as  =  RoiiEKT   Southavell  with  L.  =  Leake  ;  but 


PREFACE. 


the  numerals  below,  which  at  first  I  thought  might  indi- 
cate the  Poet's  age  at  death  (32-3)  scarcely  yield  this, 
unless  the  final  X.  be  =  II.^  as  a  cross.  I  assign  Leake's 
edition  to  1596,  because  it  is  so  marked  in  a  contem- 
porary hand  in  my  copy  and  in  another  reported  to  me, 
and  because  there  are  certain  misprints  in  it  that  are  par- 
tially corrected  in  the  edition  of  1597  as  also  in  those  of 
1599  and  1G02,  which  editions  I  merely  name,  as  they 
are  identical  in  their  contents  and  of  no  special  worth 
or  aixthority,  although  as  books  they  fetch  extravagant 
prices  in  their  '  few  and  far  between'  occurrence  in  Li- 
brary-sales and  Book-catalogues.  Dr.  Hannah  favoured 
me  with  the  use  of  his  copy  (formerly  Park's)  of  1599 
edit.  Li  the  centre  of  its  woodcut  title-page  is  an  ^scu- 
lapian  device,  with  the  mottoes  '  Nosce  teipsum,  Ne  qvid 
nimis'  and  '  Love  and  lyve.' 

As  a  bibliographic  curiosity  I  give  on  the  next  page 
the  title-page  (which  is  within  a  border)  of  an  early 
Scottish  edition.  David  Laing,  Esq.  LL.D.,  has  kindly 
forwarded  me  this,  and  he  conjectures  that  its  date  was 
probably  1597  or  1598.  From  its  incompleteness  Cal- 
DECOTT  supposed  it  to  be  the  ^ first'  edition,  that  is,  pre- 
vious to  the  edition  of  159-5:  but  this  is  most  improbable. 

•  As  I  pass  this  through  the  press,  my  excellent  friend  the 
Rev.  S.  Sole  thus  writes  me  :  '  I  was  thinking  whether  Iesws 
Marte  could  not  be  made  out  of  the  mouogi-am.  You  will 
remember  Southwell  has  prefixed  these  names  to  one  of  the 
Elegies.  F.  Haigh  of  Erdington  Catholic  Church,  well  known 
in  the  cu'cle  of  Archaeologists,  showed  me  that  it  could  be  done, 
and  suggests  it  as  the  explanation.  Notice  the  lengthening 
of  the  upright  line  of  the  E  in  the  monogi-am  on  the  left  of 
the  page  ;  this  may  be  the  I  of  lesus  ;  which  otherwise  can  be 
formed  without  much  stretch.  The  monogi-am  would  thus  read 
R.  S.  Jesus  Marye.' 


PREFACE. 


Moreover,  incompleteness  is  no  evidence,  inasmuch  as 
the  St.  Peter's  Complaint,  with  only  '  Content  and  Ritche' 
of  Edinburgh,  bears  the  much  later  date  1G34,  while 
161G  and  1G20  editions  of  London  are  exceedingly  imper- 
fect. The  exemplar  now  described  is  that  of  the  Anglo- 
Poetica,  where  it  was  priced  211.  The  memorandum 
date  of  1595  in  Chalmers'  copy  I  suspect  was  simply  a 
note  that  it  was  a  reprint  of  the  1595  edition.  It  would 
seem  that  Professor  John  Johnston  of  St.  Andrews — 
a  notable  man,  as  shown  in  M'Crie's  Life  of  Andrew 
Melville  and  Dr.  Irving's  '  Lives  of  Scottish  Writers' 
— had  some  oversight  of  this  edition. 

Saint 
Peters  Com- 

With  other  Poems. 


Printer's 
ornament. 


Edinbvrgh 

Printed  by  Robert  Walde-graue 

Printer  to  the  Kings  Majestie 

cum  Privilegio  Regis. 

A  Sonnet  bearing  Johnston's  initials  is  oddly  inserted  at 
page  30,  at  close  of  Saint  Peter's  Complaint.  It  may 
find  place  here,  the  more  so  that  it  has  never  since  been 
reprinted : 


PREFACE. 


Sonnet  :  A  Sinfull  Soule  to  Christ. 

I  lurk,  I  lowve  iu  dungeon  deepe  of  mynd, 
In  mourning  moode,  I  run  a  restles  race  ; 
With  wounding  pangs  my  soule  is  sorelie  pyn'd, 
My  gi-iefe  it  gi-owes,  and  death  drawes  on  a  pace : 

What  life  can  last  except  there  come  releace  ? 
Feare  threats,  dispaire  ;  my  siune  infernall  wage. 
I  faint,  I  fall :  most  wofull  is  my  cace ; 
Who  can  me  helpe,  who  may  this  storme  assuage  ? 

O  Lord  of  life,  our  peace,  our  only  i^leaye,  pica  .' 

O  blesful  light,  who  life  of  death  hast  wix)ught. 
Of  heau'nlie  loue  the  hrightsome  beame,  and  hage,     hen/ ! 
Who  by  Thy  death  from  death  and  hell  vs  brought, 

Reviue  my  soule ;  my  sinnes,  my  sores  redresse, 

That  liue  I  may  with  Thee  in  lasting  blesse.  I.  I. 

The  collation  is  in  all  28  leaves  :  sigs.  A  to  G :  and  the 
contents  (except  the  addition  of  Johnston's  sonnet)  cor- 
respond with  those  of  1595,  and  follow  the  same  order. 
The  Epistles  only  are  awanting.  Another  Scottish  edition 
of  Saint  Peter's  Complaint,  with  Content  and  Ilitche — 
already  named — bears  the  imprint  '  Edinbvrgh,  Printed 
by  lohn  Wreittoun,  Anno  Dom.  1634'  (4to,  19  leaves). 
That  assigned  to  Robert  Waldegrave,  Edmbiirgh,  1600 
(4to),  by  TuRNBULL,  I  suspect  to  be  an  imagination :  at 
least  I  have  failed  to  trace  a  copy  anywhere. 

These  are  all  the  quarto  editions  known.  Others 
are  in  duodecimo,  and  are  combined  with  more  or  less 
full  collections  of  the  Prose  Writings.  On  the  next  page 
is  the  title-page  of  the  earliest  smaller  edition,  of  which 
the  collation  is:  Title-page;  Epistle- Dedicatory  '  To  my 
worthy  good  cosen,  Maister  W.  S.'  2  pp.;  The  Avthovr 
to  the  Reader  (izs),  2  pp.;  St.  Peter's  Complaint,  pp. 
1-34;  St.  Peter's  Peccaui  [.?z'c,  =  David's  Peccavi  and 
Sin's  Heavy  Load],  St.  Peter's  Rctnrne  Home  [  =  Look 


XV  111 


PREFACE. 


Homel,  Saint  Peter's  Comfort  [  =  Scorn  not  the  Least 
and  Times  go  by  turns],  Saint  Peter's  Wish  [  :=  Li  e  is 
but  Loss],  pp.  35-42 ;  '  Finis'  being  placed  on  the  last. 
Then  follows  Sainte  Mary  Magdalen's  Fvnerall  Teares 
rprose],  pp.  43-157;  'Finis'  again  being  placed  on  the 
last  Then  St.  Mary  Magdalen's  Blvsh,  No  loy  to  Liue, 
St  Mary  Magdalen's  Traunce  [  =  Lewd  Love  is  LosseJ, 
Sainte  Mary  Magdalen's  Farewell  [  =  From  Fortunes 
Reach]  At  Home  in  Heauen,  Christ's  Natiuity,  Christ  s 
Childhood,  and  the  Christian's  Manna  (of  which  more 
immediately),  pp.  158-170,  and  'Finis'  once  more  on 
the  last.  The  edition  of  1G20  is  identical  throughout 
with  the  preceding.  ^ 

S.  Peters 
Complaint. 

And 

Saint  Mary 

Magdalens 

Fvnerall  Teares. 

With  sundry  other  selected, 

and  deuout  Poems. 

By  R.  S.  of  the  Society  of  lesvs. 


Is  any  among  you  sad  1   Let  him  pray.    Is  Iw  of  a 
cheerfiill  hart  ?    Let  him  sing.    lac.  5. 

[Doway]  Permissu  Superiorum.  m.dc.xvi. 


PREFACE, 


Of  '  The  Christian's  Manna'  Turnbull  thus  speaks : 
'  This  [edition  1620]  has  annexed  to  it  "The  Christian's 
Manna,"  a  poem  not  in  any  other  edition  [a  mistake,  as 
it  had  previously  appeared  with  the  same  heading  in 
161G  edition].  But  Mr.  Park  considers  it  "has  no  le- 
gitimate claim  to  be  considered  as  his  production."  On 
this  point  I  am  neither  able  myself  to  form  an  opinion, 
nor  give  others  an  opportunity  for  doing  so;  since,  in 
spite  of  every  effort,  I  have  been  unable  to  find  a  copy 
of  the  edition'  (Ritson,  Bib.  Poet,  341  n.) — (p.  xxxvi.). 
Later,  Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier,  in  his  '  Bibliographical 
Account'  (s.n.),  in  recording  the  1620  edition  of  London, 
which  also  contains  the  '  Short  Eules  of  Good  Life,'  ob- 
serves :  '  To  the  present  copy  is  added  a  poem  called  "  The 
Christian's  Manna"  not  found  elsewhere  [a  mistake,  as 
with  Turnbull],  but  which,  though  not  reprinted  by  Mr. 
Turnbull,  there  is  no  sufficient  reason  for  doubting  to  be 
by  Southwell;'  and  then  with  high  praise  follows  a  quo- 
tation. Still  later,  Mr.  W.  Carew  Hazlitt,  in  his '  Hand- 
book of  Early  English  Literature'  (1867),  has  this  note 
under  the  1616  edition:  'This  edition  and  the  next 
contain  the  very  doubtful  piece  entitled  The  Christian's 
Manna,  which  was  not  included  in  the  English  and  Scot- 
tish editions.'  All  have  been  misled  by  the  Anglo-Poetica. 
After  all  this,  our  Readers  will  be  amused  to  learn  that 
'  The  Christian's  Manna'  is  only  '  Of  the  blessed  Sacra- 
ment of  the  Aulter'  under  a  new  title,  as  pointed  out  in 
our  Notes  and  Illustrations  in  the  place.  Of  course  this 
establishes  its  genuineness,  seeing  that  the  poem  is  not 
only  in  Add!,  ms.  10.422,  but  in  our  Stonyhurst  ms. 
It  was  printed  unknowingly  by  Turnbull  (pp.  157-160). 
None  of  the  other  changes  of  headings  in  1616  and  1620 


XX  PREFACE. 

have  before  been  observed.  There  were  enlarged  editions 
— the  additions  being  Prose — in  1G30  and  1634.  That 
of  1030,  '  London,  printed  by  I.  Haviland,  and  sonld  by 
Robert  Allott'  (the  same  engraved  title-page  with  the 
London  edition  of  1G20),  has  all  the  Poems  of  159(J  and 
of '  Majonige'  1595,  and  Marie  Magdalen's  Fvnerall  Teares, 
Triumphs  over  Death  and  Short  Rules  of  Good  Life. 
Barrett  the  Publisher  dedicates  this  edition  '  To  the 
right  Honorable  Richard,  Earle  of  Dorset,'  who  was  the 
third  earl  and  second  son  of  Robert  Sackville,  second  earl, 
by  his  first  wife  Margaret,  only  daughter  of  Thomas 
Howard,  fourth  duke  of  Norfolk,  on  which  '  fair  lady's' 
death  our  Worthy  wrote  his  'Triumphs  of  Death.'  He 
was  also  the  patron-friend  of  Donne  and  Bishop  Henry 
King.     The  Epistle  follows  : 

'  My  Lord, — The  entertainment  which  this  worke  in 
the  seueral  parts  therof  hath  formerly  found  with  men 
of  exact  iudgment,  may  be  a  sufficient  testimony,  that 
it  is  not  (now)  offered  vnto  your  Lordship  for  that  it  stands 
in  need  of  protection  (the  vsuall  apologie  of  euery  tri- 
uiall  Painphletter),  much  lesse  to  emendicate  any  others 
suffrages,  beyond  the  knowne  worth  thereof:  the  onely 
reason  of  this  present  boldnesse,  and  my  excuse  for  thus 
presuming  to  recommend  it  to  your  honorable  hands, 
being,  that  as  the  Author  thereof  had  long  since  dedi- 
cated some  peeces  of  the  whole  to  sundrie  particular 
branches  of  that  noble  stocke  and  familie  whereof  your 
Lordship  is  (and  long  may  you  be  a  strong  and  flourish- 
ing arme  !),  so  now  my  selfe  hauing  first  collected  these 
dismembred  parcels  into  one  body,  and  published  them 
in  an  entire  edition,  I  held  it  a  kinde  of  sacrilege  to  de- 


PREFACE.  XXI 

fraud  your  noble  name  of  the  right  which  you  may  so 
justly  challenge  thereunto,  which  by  the  sunshine  of 
your  fauour  shall  bee  as  it  were  reanimated;  and  he  en- 
couraged to  further  endeuours,  who  in  the  meane  time  is 
at  your  Lordship's  seruice.  « ^l   Barret.' 

The  allusions  in  this  Epistle-dedicatory  are  explained 
by  the  Verse-dedication  of  the  '  Triumphs  over  Death' 
to  '  the  WorshipfuU  M.  Richard  Sackuile,  Edward  Sack- 
uile,  Cicily  Sackuile  and  Anne  Sackuile,  the  hopefull 
issues  of  the  honorable  gentleman,  Master  Robert  Sack- 
uile Esquire.'    This  verse-dedication  follows  : 

Most  lines  do  not  the  best  conceit  containe  ; 

Few  words,  well  coucht,  may  comprehend  much  matter  : 

Then  as  to  use  the  fu-st  is  counted  vaine, 

So  is't  jn-aise-worthy  to  conceit  the  latter. 

The  gi-auest  wits  that  most  gi-aue  works  ex^Dect, 

The  qualitie,  not  quantitie  respect. 

The  smallest  sparke  will  cast  a  burning  heat, 
Base  cottages  may  harbour  things  of  worth  : 
Then  though  this  volume  be,  nor  gay  nor  great, 
Which  under  your  protection  I  set  forth : 
Do  not  with  coy  disdainefull  ouersight 
Deny  to  read  this  well  meant  orphan's  mite. 

And  since  his  father  in  his  infancy 
Prouided  patrons  to  protect  his  heire  : 
But  now  by  Death's  none-sparing  crueltie, 
Is  turnd  an  orphan  to  the  open  ayre : 
I,  his  unworthy  foster-sire  haue  dar'd 
To  make  you  Patronizer  of  this  ward. 

You  glorying  issues  of  that  glorious  dame, 
Whose  life  is  made  the  subiect  of  Death's  will : 
To  you,  succeeding  hopes  of  mother's  fame, 
I  dedicate  this  first  of  Southwel's  quill : 
He  for  your  unkle's  comfort  first  it  writ, 
I  for  your  consolation  print  and  send  you  it. 


PREFACE. 


Then  daine  in  kindnesse  to  accept  the  worke, 

Which  he  in  kindnesse  writ  I  send  to  you : 

The  which  till  now  clouded,  obscure  did  lurke : 

But  now  opposed  to  each  Reader's  view, 

May  yeeld  commodious  fruit  to  every  wight, 

That  feeles  his  conscience  prickt  by  Parens  spight. 

But  if  in  ought  I  haue  presumptuous  beene, 

My  pardon-craning  pen  implores  your  fauour  : 

If  any  fault  in  print  be  past  unseene. 

To  let  it  passe,  the  Printer  is  the  crauer : 

So  shall  he  thanke  you  and  I  by  duty  bound, 

Pray  that  in  you  may  all  good  gifts  abound.  S.  W. 

F.  G.  Waldron,  who  in  1783,  in  an  appendix  to 
an  edition  of  Ben  Jonson's  '  Sad  Shepherd,'  gave  a  few 
pieces  from  Southwell,  and  which  were  reprinted  by 
Headley  in  his  '  Beauties,'  supposed  the  above  verse- 
dedication  to  have  been  composed  by  Southwell  him- 
self, and  the  initials  (S.  W.)  to  denote  S[outh]  W[en]. 
TuRNBULL  repeats  this  without  correction.  The  suppo- 
sition is  of  the  wildest.  It  is  neither  suggested  nor  sup- 
ported, but  contradicted  by  the  sense  and  style  of  the 
verses,  and  in  the  third  and  fourth  stanzas  his  death  is 
distinctly  named.  If  I  might  hazard  a  more  likely  con- 
jecture, the  S.  W.  is  =  W.  S.  the  '  loving  cosen'  of  the 
Epistle-dedicatory  of  the  Poems  of  1595,  that  is,  in  such 
case,  his  'loving  cosen'  had  something  to  do  with  the 
edition,  and  added  his  initials  reversed.  But  of  course 
the  full  signature  of  John  Trussel  in  1596  edition  gives 
the  Verses  to  him. 

Such  were  the  original  and  early  editions  of  the 
Poems  of  Southwell  :  and  I  have  now  to  show  that 
they  all  prove  faulty  in  their  text  when  collated  with  the 
Author's  own  mss.  at  Stonyhurst  College.  Taking  Leake's 


PREFACE.  XXIU 

edition  (1596,  though  undated)  as  a  basis,  I  submit  these 
dozen  examples  of  errors  ;  others  are  pointed  out  in  our 
Notes  and  Illustrations : 

1.  '  Yet  higher  poures  [  -  powers]  must  think  though 
they  repine,'  in  'Scorne  not  the  Leaste'  (st.  i.  line  5),  mis- 
reads '  most'  for  '  must.' 

2.  '  Untowched  of  man,  yet  mother  of  a  sonne,'  in  '  Our 
Ladye's  Spousalls'  (st.  i.  line  2),  misreads  '  Vntaught'  for 
'  Untowched.' 

3.  'Unwonted  workes  with  wonted  veyles  to  hide,'  in 
the  same  poem  (st.  i.  line  G),  misreads  'wiles'  for  'veyles.' 

4.  '  0  blessed  man,  betroth'd  to  such  a  spouse,'  in  the 
same  (st.  ii.  line  5),  misreads  '  betrothd  too  much'  for  '  to 
such.' 

5.  '  Thus  had  she  virgins',  wives'  and  widowes' crowns,' 
in  the  same  (st.  iii.  line  5),  misreads  '  the'  for  '  she.' 

6.  '  In  thee  their  joy  and  soveraigne  they  agnize,'  in 
'Our  Ladie's  Salutation'  (st.  ii.  line  2),  misreads  '  they' 
for  '  their.' 

7.  '  With  weeping  eyes  His  mother  reu'd  His  smart, 

If  hlood  from  Him,  teares  rann  from  her  as  fast,' 

in  'The  Circumcision'  (st.  iii.  lines  1-2),  misreads  '  his' 
for  'her;'  and  again  in  line  4,  'The  payne  that  Jesus 
felt  did  Mary  tast,'  misreads  '  set'  for  '  felt.' 

8.  '  And  from  a  thorne  nowe  to  a  floure  He  fledd,'  in 
'  Christe's  Keturn  out  of  Egipt'  (st.  ii.  line  6),  misreads 
'  throne'  for  '  thorne.' 

9.  '  His  worthes  all  prayses  farr  exceed,'  in  '  Lauda 
Syon  Sal.'  (st.  i.  line  5),  misreads  'workes'  for  'worthes.' 

10.  'The  jjrme  use  of  this  mystery,'  in  the  same  poem. 
(st.  iii.  line  6),  misreads  '  prince'  for  '  prime,' 

11.  'No  heed  of  their  deceivinge  shiftes,'  in  '  The  Pro- 


Xxiv  PREFACE. 

digall  Chylde's  Soule  Wracke'  (st.  xii.  line  2),  misreads 
'  receiuing'  for  '  deceivinge.' 

12.  '  The  world  with  jesses  of  delight,'  in  '  Man's  Civill 
Warre'  (st.  iii.  line  3),  misreads  'lesses'for  'jesses:'  and 
in  the  same  (st.  v.  Hne  3),  '  Foes  senses  are  to  vertue's 
lore,'  misreads  '  and'  for  '  are:'  and  again  (st,  vi.  line  4), 
'  Or  truce  of  halves  the  whole  betraye,'  misreads  '  trust' 
for  'truce.' 

I  have  selected  these  out  of  (Uterally)  scores  similar, 
because,  with  the  exception  of  the  egregious  one  of '  throne' 
for  'thorne'  (No.  8),  the  first  edition  (1595)  has  the  same 
blunders,  and  so  the  other  early  editions  enumerated  by 
us.  Our  Notes  and  Illustrations  will  supply  abundantly 
more.  Turnbull  corrects  none  of  these  misreadings, 
save  the  very  few  corrected  for  him  in  his  text  of  1634, 
and,  as  we  shall  see,  superadds  as  many  of  his  own. 

It  will  be  evident  that  none  of  the  printed  texts  from 
1595  to  1856  is  to  be  regarded  as  accurate  or  authori- 
tative. This  being  so,  I  turned  to  the  British  Museum 
Manuscripts  (Addl.Mss.  10.422  andHarleiannss.  6921): 
but  after  a  laborious  collation,  these,  while  yielding  by  a 
happy  chance  better  occasional  readings — and  which  are 
confirmed  by  the  Stonyhurst  mss. — proved  flagrantly 
blundering.  The  Addl.  mss.  10,422  is  unquestionably 
the  superior :  but  taking  St.  Peter's  Complaint,  here  are 
specimens  of  its  misreadings  : 

1,  St.  i.  line  2,  '  Full  fraught  with  teares'  for  '  full 
fraught  with  grief,'  the  '  teares'  being  caught  from  the 
preceding  line. 

2,  St.  ii.  line  4,  '  in  penance  wed'  for  '  to  penance,' 

3,  St.  xii.  line  2,  'now  leasf  for  '  now  left.' 


PREFACE. 


4.  St.  xiii.  line  3,  '  What  trust  to  one'  for  '  in  one.' 

5.  St.  xviii.  line  1,  '  a  sea  of  showi^es'  for  'a  sea  of 
sours.' 

6.  St.  xxii,  line  4,    '  With  hellish  dunge  to  fertill 
heavenly  desires'  for  ^heaven's  desires.' 

7.  St.  xxiv.  line  5,  '  My  other  were  stones  .  .  .'  for 
'  My  oaths: 

8.  St.  xxxviii.   line  4,  '  Soule's  wilfull  fame,  synne's 
lost  stealing  face'  for  '  wilfull  famine'  and  '  sq/i!-stealing.' 

9.  St.  xliii.  line  5,  *  unquanted  hunger'  for  '  unac- 
quainted  hunger.' 

10.  St.  xlvi.  line  1, '  ah  !  that  ever  I  saw  it'  for  '  ah ! 
that  I  ever  saw  it.' 

11.  St.  Ixii,  1.  3, '  You  nectar'd  amhrose'  for  '  ambries : 

12.  St,  Ixviii.  line  G,  '  all  the  skrikes'  for  *  scribes: 

13.  St.  Ixxii.  line  2,  '  God  soone'  for  '  God,  sun.' 

14.  St.  xcvii.  line  3,  '  To  iZame  your  babes'  for  Um- 
halm: 

1 5.  St.  cxvii,  1.  G,  '  shop  of  share'  for  '  shop  of  slmme: 

It  were  endless  to  enumerate  the  dropping  and  misplac- 
ing of  words  and  the  uncouth  orthography.  The  same 
result  is  obtained  in  collating  the  shorter  poems.  I  ad- 
duce only  half-a-dozen  examples : 

1 .  '  Flye  fortune's  subtleties'  for  '  Sly,'  in  '  Fortune's 
Falsehood'  (st.  i.  line  2). 

2.  '>S'o?«e- dying  mirth'  for  '  sooue-dying   mirth,'  in 
'  Marie  Magdalen's  Blush'  (st.  i.  line  G). 

3.  '  Lett  thy  farewell  guide  thy  thought'  for  \foreioit: 
in  '  Losse  in  Delay'  (st.  ii.  line  6). 

4.  '  Where  pleasure's  upshott  is  to  denye  accurst'  for 
'  die  accurst,'  in  '  What  Joy  to  line'  (st.  v.  line  C). 

d 


XXVI 


PREFACE. 


;').  '  Such  hyde  tlie  light'  for  '  Sunne,  hyde  thy  light' 
('  Death  of  our  Ladie,'  st.  iii.  line  5). 

6.  '  For  sith  no  price  can  thy  worth  amount'  for  '  to 
thy  worth;  in  '  The  Presentation'  (st.  i-  line  5). 

Similar  errors  might  be  exhibited  to  almost  any  extent, 
but  it  cannot  be  required.  It  was  this  ms.  Walter  and 
TuRNBULL  consulted  and  used.  It  had  formerly  been  in 
the  Heber  collection.  From  its  contents  and  arrange- 
ment I  was  inclined  to  think  it  must  have  been  the  same 
Manuscript  that  is  stated  by  Dr.  Oliver  (as  before) 
to  have  been  in  the  Catholic  Church  of  Bury  St.  Ed- 
munds, and  which  has  long  been  missing  there  :  but  the 
presence  of  St.  Peter's  Complaint  in  full  in  it  seems  to 
make  this  doubtful.  Seeing  that  G921  (Harleian  mss.)  is 
of  like  and  even  faultier  character,  I  do  not  deem  it  ne- 
cessary to  record  the  result  of  our  collation  of  it.  Both 
swarm  with  mistakes  of  every  conceivable  sort,  in  addi- 
tion to  a  punctuation  that  is  chaos.  Yet,  as  our  Notes 
and  llhistrations  show,  both  yield  some  admirable  correc- 
tions of  the  printed  edition. 

It  is  pleasant  to  turn  from  the  printed  texts  and  these 
MSS.  to  the  Stonyhurst  mss.  The  principal  ms.  of  the 
Poems  is  a  handsome  volume,  one  plainly  upon  which  the 
Jesuits  set  much  store.  It  is  daintily  bound  in  vellum, 
with  gilt  edges,  and  written  very  beautifully  throughout 
in  one  hand,  with  the  exception  of  one  poem,  viz.  The 
Prodigall  Chylde's  Soule  Racke,  which,  though  occur- 
ring in  the  body  of  the  volume,  is  wholly  in  Southwell's 
autograph.  The  badge  of  the  Society  of  Jesus  is  upon 
the  cover.  This  ms.  must  have  been  prepared  for  the 
Author  himself,  inasmuch  as  while  now  and  again  self- 


PREFACE.  XXvii 

correcting  mistakes  are  left  inadvertently,  there  are  re- 
peated corrections  in  his  own  autograph,  revealing  care- 
ful reading  and  interest.  Our  fac-similes  (in  the  illus- 
trated quarto)  show  both  the  ms.  and  a  correction,  and 
also  from  another  autograph  ms.  the  Poet's  handwriting 
and  signature.  Besides  this  Volume,  there  are  various 
separate  mss.  in  Southwell's  own  autograph,  notably  the 
Latina  Poemata,  which  it  is  my  privilege  to  print  for 
the  first  time.  But  as  these,  with  the  exception  of  the 
remarkable  Latin  poems,  are  in  Prose,  I  reserve  farther 
notice  of  them  for  our  Memorial-Introduction. 

It  may  be  well  to  give  proof  of  the  value  and  autho- 
rity of  the  Stonyhurst  ms.  Our  waning  space  forbids 
enlargement :  but  in  Notes  and  Illustrations  other  ex- 
amples will  be  found  in  plenty.  I  shall  select  instances 
that  will  at  the  same  time  serve  to  show  Turnbull's  er- 
roneous readings. 

Turning  to  the  '  Visitation'  (st.  i.  1.  5),  we  read  in  the 
early  editions  and  British  Museum  mss.  '  Her  youth  to 
age,  herself e  to  sicke  she  lends.'  So  it  stood  in  the  ori- 
ginal text  of  the  Stonyhurst  ms.;  but  Southwell  has 
made  it  '  Her  youth  to  age,  her  lielih  to  sicke  she  lends,' 
giving  meaning  to  what  was  nonsense.  Turnbull  per- 
petuates the  nonsense. 

Again,  in  '  David's  Peccavi'  (st.  ii.  line  4),  the  Stony- 
hurst MS.  reads  '  My  garments  gyve-^  [=fetters].  Turn- 
bull  has  *  My  garments  give.'' 

Once  more,  in  '  Seeke  Flowers  of  Heaven'  (st.  v. 
lines  3-4)  reads  in  Turnbull,  '  Most  glittering  gold 
in  lieu  of  glebe.  These  fragrant  flowers  do  yield.'  So 
also  the  Stonyhurst  ms.  originally,  but  corrected  by  the 
Author  as  the  sense  requires,  '  doth  yield.' 


XXVlll  PREFACE. 

Yet  again,  in  *  Mary  Magdalen's  Complaint'  (st.  v. 
line  2),  Turnbull  reads,  '  In  the  sunne  of  happiness  :' 
the  Stonyhurst  ms.  corrects  '  In  the  summed 

Farther,  in  '  What  Joy  to  live'  (st.  iii.  1. 1),  Turnbull 
misreads,  '  Here  loan  is  lent :'  the  Stonyhurst  ms.  corrects 
'  loue'  for  *  loan ;'  and  so  in  st.  iv.  line  5,  for  Turnbull's 
'  luring  gain,''  Southwell  corrects  by  '  ayme.' 

Again,  in  '  Love's  servile  Lot'  (st.  vi.  line  2),  Turn- 
bull  reads  haltingly,  '  Yet  doth  draw  it  from  thee  :'  the 
Poet  fills-in  in  the  Stonyhurst  ms.  *  she'  before  '  draw.' 

Once  more,  in  '  Love's  servile  Lot'  (st.  xii.  line  1), 
Turnbull  reads,  '  With  soothed  words  enthralled  souls:' 
the  Stonyhurst  ms.  corrects  '  soothed'  into  '  soothing.' 

Farther,  in  '  Content  and  Eitche'  (st.  vi.  line  3),  Turn- 
bull  reads,  '  Effects  attend,  or  not  desire  ;'  the  Stony- 
hurst MS.  '  Effects  aUeyn\l  or  not  desired.^ 

Again,  in  Dyer's  Phancy'  (st.  i.  line  3),  Turnbull 
reads, '  Whose  hope  is  salve  ;'  the  Stonyhurst  ms.  '  Whose 
hope  is  falne.^ 

Finally,  in  '  I  die  Alive'  (st.  iii.  line  1),  Turnbull 
reads,  '  Thus  still  I  dye,  yet  still  I  do  remayne.^  So  ori- 
ginally in  the  Stonyhurst  ms.  as  in  the  Harleian  ms.  But 
in  the  former  there  has  been  study  to  make  the  line  of 
which  it  is  the  final  word  accord  in  rhyme  with  the  line 
which  is  balanced  with  it,  and  which  ends  in  '  alive.'  First 
of  all  the  word  '  rehjve!  was  substituted  ;  and  that  not 
satisfying,  '  revive'  was  finally  adopted.  The  radical 
changes  and  the  study  evinced  reveal  the  Poet's  own  au- 
thority and  care.  Moreover,  when  we  consider  that  the 
Harleian  ms.  has  the  word  '  remayne'  and  the  consequent 
defect  of  rhyme ;  and  that  the  same  care  which  has  ren- 
dered the  Stonyhurst  ms.   superior  here  and   in  many 


PREFACE.  XXIX 

similar  cases,  down  to  minute  corrections  of  ortliography 
(and  so  in  the  Prose  mss.),  has  been  bestowed  upon  the 
whole  work — not  to  speak  of  the  fact  that  this  Volume 
is  and  always  has  been  in  the  hands  of  the  Society  of 
which  Southwell  was  a  member,  and  that  the  beauty 
of  the  MS.  confirms  one's  expectation  that  to  his  own 
brethren  he  would  have  presented  a  copy  of  his  own 
poems  worthy  of  him  and  of  them — the  Stonyhurst  ms. 
must  {meo  judicio)  be  assigned  the  highest,  if  not  absolute 
authority.  Accordingly  I  have  taken  it  for  my  text,  albeit 
in  Notes  and  Illustrations  I  have  pointed  out  the  '  vari- 
ous readings'  of  the  early  printed  editions,  and  adopted 
an  occasional  correction  of  the  Stonyhurst  mp.  oversights. 
The  Stonyhurst  jis.  is  arranged  as  shown  in  our  Con- 
tents, and  includes  all  those  in  the  British  Museum  mss. 
published  by  Walter  and  Turnbull,  Curiously  enough, 
St,  Peter's  Complaint  is  given  only  in  an  abbreviated 
form,  as  recorded  in  the  preliminary  Note  to  our  reprint, 
and  I  have  reports  of  various  ms.  copies  of  a  similar  kind.^ 
I  know  not  that  the  extension  of  the  Poem  has  added  to 
its  value.  Its  absence  from  the  Stonyhurst  ms.  in  full 
would  seem  to  argue  that  it  was  a  later  poem  than  the 
others.  For  the  text  of  St.  Peter's  Complaint  I  have 
selected  Leake's  edition  of  1596,  with  relative  Notes  and 
Illustrations  at  the  close. 

Our  Notes  and  Illustrations  throughout  will  furnish 
sorrowful  examples  of  the  utter  carelessness  of  Turnbull 
(in  addition  to  the  foregoing).  I  may  farther  refer  to 
pp.  4G,  47,  48,  50,  53,  54,  55,  65,  70,  71,  75,  81,  86,  90, 
and  so  onwards  ocZ  nauseam.  Of  Walter's  edit.  (1817) 

'  Sec  more  ou  the  formatiou  of  St.  Peter's  Complaint  in  our 
Memorial- Introduction. 


XXX  PREFACE. 

suffice  it  to  say  generally,  that  in  the  complete  Poems 
(apart  from  our  additions  for  the  first  time)  there  are  in 
all  57,  while  Walter  gives  only  15,  and  3  from  Addl. 
Mss.  10.422.  Specifically  his  manipulation  of  the  ad- 
dress of  the  '  Author  to  the  Reader'  will  be  enough.  In 
1595  edition  (his  avowed  text)  st.  ii.  thus  reads : 

If  equities  euen-hand  the  ballance  held, 

Where  Peters  sinnes  and  ours  were  made  the  weightes : 

Ounce,  for  his  Dramme  :  Pound,  for  his  Ounce  we  yeeld : 

His  ship  would  groane  to  feele  some  sinners  frightes. 

So  ripe  is  vice,  so  gi'eene  is  vertues  bud  : 

The  world  doth  waxe  in  ill,  but  waine  in  good. 

In  Walter  we  have  this  without  a  shred  of  authority  : 

If  Justice'  even  hand  the  balance  held. 

Where  Peter's  sins  and  ours  were  made  the  weights. 
How  S7nall  hU  share,  cojupafd  to  what  we  yield! 

His  ship  would  gi-oan,  &c. 

He  gives  only  three  out  of  the  four  stanzas  of  this  poem, 
and  tacks  on  for  the  missing  fourth  stanza  the  closing  one 
of  the  first  address  to  the  Reader,  omitting  the  others  there- 
in. Then  in  '  A  Fancy  turned  to  a  Sinner's  Complaint,' 
after  stanza  iv.  no  fewer  than  eight  verses  are  omitted, 
and  another,  and  other  five,  and  again  other  three,  and 
twice  one;  and  so  throughout.  Turnbull  said  con- 
temptuously, '  I  refrain  from  criticism  on  Mr.  Walter's 
text :'  severe  but  not  undeserved,  only  his  own  is  scarcely 
one  whit  better,  and  in  places  worse.  I  deplore  the  sad 
necessity  laid  on  me  thus  to  pronounce  on  one  so  labori- 
ous as  Turnbull.  Our  finest  Literature  would  get  cor- 
rupted, if  such  editing  were  not  exposed  and  censured. 

In  basing  my  edition  on  the  Stonyhurst  mss.,  I  can- 
not sufficiently  utter  my  sense  of  indebtedness  to  the 
custodiers  of  them,  seeing  that  they  not  only  give  us  a 


PREFACE.  XXxi 


superior  and  authoritative  text,  but  the  hitherto  unprinted 
Latin  Poems.  J^or  must  I  omit  very  cordially  and  grate- 
fully to  acknowledge  the  loving  and  careful  helpfulness 
of  the  Rev.  S.  Sole,  of  St.  Mary's  College,  Oscott,  Bir- 
mingham, in  collating  and  recollating  the  text,  and  in  re- 
reading our  proofs  with  the  mss.     '  To  err  is  human,'  so 
that  I  cannot  hope  to  have  presented  an  immaculate  edi- 
tion ;  but  I  can  in  all  honesty  say  no  pains,  no  toil,  has 
been  spared  to  try  to  make  it  worthy  of  the  Poet.     It 
may  be  as  well  to  state,  that  I  may  have  failed  to  repro- 
duce literally  an  occasional  '  u'  for  '  v'  and  '  v'  for  '  u,'  and 
perhaps  '  hee'  for  '  he,'  and  the  like.  I  have  also  thought 
it  expedient  to  introduce  the  apostrophe  and  the  usual 
capitals  in  divine  names  and  personifications  (nouns  and 
pronouns),  and,  as  explained  in  relative  Notes,  have  ad- 
opted our  '  Tho?/'  instead  of  '  Thow,'  '  too'  for  '  to,'  and 
'  thee'  for  '  the,'  as  in  present  usage.    The  Notes  and  Il- 
lustrations at  close  of  each  poem  discuss  various  read- 
ings, punctuation,  obscurities,  &c.  &c.;   and  here  I  wish 
most  heartily  to  thank  Deputy- Inspector-General  Dr. 
Brinsley  Nicholson  for  his  varied  and  luminous  com- 
munications in  elucidation  and  illustration  of  the  text. 
As   in  Vaughan  and  Crashaw,  and   as  in  Marvell, 
Donne  and  Sidney  forthcoming,  my  editions  owe  much 
and  will  owe  more  to  his  affluent  reading,  rare  insight, 
and  most  generous  willinghood  to  aid  us  in  our  '  labour 
of  love.'     The    Shakesperean    Reader   will   thank   Dr. 
NicuoLSON  for  putting  us  in  the  track  of  the  Shake- 
speare allusions  noted  in  our  Memorial- Introduction,  only 
one  of  many  like  services. 

As  before,  I  have  to  thank  my  helpers  on  the  otlier 
Worthies  for  continued  and  increasing  interest  in  my 


PREFACE. 


books.  To  the  authorities  of  Jesus  College,  Oxford,  I 
am  indebted  for  the  use  of  the  extremely  rare  1595  edi- 
tions of  St.  Peter's  Complaint  and  other  Poems  and 
Majonia;,  and  to  the  same  at  Stonyhurst  College  for  use 
of  other  early  editions  ;  and  also  to  Dr.  Hannah  of 
Brighton,  for  scarce  editions  and  some  annotations  and 
suggestions. 

In  our  illustrated  quarto  edition  I  have  the  satisfac- 
tion to  present  a  photo-facsimile  by  Pouncey  of  Dor- 
chester of  the  Christ  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci's  renowned 
fresco  in  the  convent  Maria  delle  Grazie,  Milan,  of  '  The 
Last  Supper.'  It  may  be  permitted  me  to  state,  that 
after  days  and  days' study  of  the  very  best  engravings  {e.g. 
Morghen's)  of  this  mighty  picture,  while  seated  before 
the  original,  I  never  have  seen  a  faithful  reproduction 
of  it,  emphatically  never  have  seen  even  an  approach  to 
faithfulness  in  the  face  of  The  Lord.  I  must  regard  our 
photograph — specially  taken  for  me  and  under  my  own 
eyes  in  Milan — as  an  infinite  advance  on  the  engravings. 
The  sorrow-laden  eyes,  hds  heavily,  burningly,  tearlessly 
pressed  down  in  fathomless  sorrow  and  shame  under  the 
coming  Betrayal  (how  large-orbed  if  the  lids  were  raised!) ; 
the  quivering  lips  as  the  awful  words  are  spoken,  'Verily 
/  say  unto  you,  that  one  of  you  shall  betray  Me  ;'  the 
wasted  cheek,  broad-shadowed;  the  ineffable  sweetness  of 
the  mouth  and  dimpled  chin ;  the  magnificent  dome  of 
brow — no  nimbus  there,  and  not  needed,  any  more  than  is 
a  crown  needed  to  mark  out  the  true  king ;  the  thin,  pre- 
maturely blanched,  though  abundant  hair, — are  brought 
out,  as  I  think,  with  incomparable  superiority  in  our  fac- 
simile— all  the  more  that  the  pathetic  marks  of  '  Time's 
effacing  fingers'  are  inevitably  given.     I  have  seen  many 


Christs  by  the  great  Masters,  but  Leonardo  da  Vinci's 
conception  abides  unapproached  and  unapproachable.  As 
an  ilhistration  of  Southwell's  poems,  all  so  radiant  with 
the  light  of  His  Face,  every  one  will  agree  it  is  most 
fitting.  Besides  the  Christ,  as  already  named,  I  furnish 
two  Fac-similes,  by  Wort,  of  New  Oscott,  Birmingham, 
of  Southwell's  mss.  from  Stonyhurst — (1),  from  the 
author's  ms.  of  Poema  de  Assumptione  B.V.M. ;  (2), 
from  the  Stonyhurst  ms.  volume.  With  reference  to  the 
former,  an  examination  of  the  >is.  satisfies  that  the  poem 
and  signature  were  written  by  the  same  hand  and  at  the 
same  time  as  the  latter  and  larger  portion.  One  is  a 
careful  measured  hand,  suited  to  the  writing  of  a  poem 
in  a  complete  form  ;  the  other  is  his  own  signature, 
written  freely  as  he  naturally  would  write  in  signing  his 
name.  It  is  in  the  same  dark  ink.  III.  The  same  of 
the  title-page  of  the  1596  edition  of  St.  Peter's  Com- 
plaint and  other  Poems. 

For  other  things  I  refer  my  Readers  to  our  Memo- 
rial-Introduction and  Notes  and  Illustrations.  I  feel  it 
to  be  no  common  privilege  to  be  really  the  first  worthily 
and  adequately  and  in  integrity  to  present  Southwell 
as  a  Poet. 

Alexander  B.  Grosart. 

1.5  St.  Alban's  Place,  Blackburn,  Lancashire. 
February  27th,  1872. 

P.S.  I  add  here  the  judgment  of  Edmund  Bolton, 
whom  Warton  calls  '  a  sensible  [old]  Critic,'  on  South- 
well's works,  from  Hypercritica  (Oxon.  1772,  written 
before  1616):    'Never  must  be  forgotten  "St.  Peter's 

e 


PREFACE. 


Complaint,"  and  those  other  serious  Poems,  said  to  be 
Father  Southwell's  ;  the  English  whereof,  as  it  is  most 
proper,  so  the  sharpness  and  light  of  wit  is  very  rare  in 
them.'  This  quotation  from  Bolton  was  first  used  by 
Warton  (H.E.P.  iii.  230:"  1781),  next  by  Headley 
(1787,  p.  Ixv.),  and  next  by  Park  in  a  note  to  Cens. 
Lit.  (ii.  78),  whence  Walter  copied  it  (p.  xviii.)  almost 
in  Park's  own  words,  and  Willmot  (i.  15  note)  has  also 
secured  it.  Sir  Egerton  Brydges  has  it  in  his  new 
edition  of  Philips  (p.  219  note)  and  Ritson  (Bibl.  Poet. 
342).  Brydges  also  quotes  it  in  his  Adv.  to  the  reprint 
of  '  Triumphs  of  Death' — and  so  the  hackneyed  words  go 
from  critic  to  critic.  I  hope  our  edition  will  lead  some 
to  read  for  themselves. 

Dr.  Bliss,  in  his  edition  of  the  Athenm  Oxoniemis 
(s.n.),  has  corrected  Wood's  odd  mis-assignation  of  South- 
well's Poems  to  John  Davies  of  Hereford.  We  owe 
too  much  to  Wood  to  deal  hardly  with  him  for  occasional 
slips  of  this  kind.   G. 


MEMORIAL-INTKODUCTION 


I.  The   Life. 

The  Life-story  of  Southwell  beyond  his  Writings  is  a 
brief  one  on  the  earthly-side,  albeit  on  the  thither  hea- 
venly-side, I  do  not  doubt  it  fills  many  a  page  of  the 
Great  Biographer's  '  Book  of  remembrance' — as  does 
every  beautiful  and  meek  life.  And  so  in  Eternity,  and 
through  Eternity's  audience,  there  '  remaineth'  compensa- 
tion over-against  the  large  and  clamorous  '  biographies'  in 
Time  and  for  contemporaries,  of  multitudes  '  great'  only 
in  an  unconsecrate  use  of  the  word.  Sibbes'  '  resurrec- 
tion' of  saintly  '  memories,  as  well  as  of  bodies,'  is  of  the 
certainties,  and  the  demonstration  that  to  be  good,  simply 
and  quietly,  is  the  most  abiding  greatness.  We  are  far 
off  from  the  Facts,  and  the  Facts  are  few,  of  our  Worthy's 
life  ;  but  a  fragrance  sweeter  than  cere-cloth  perfumes  is 
blown  to  us  across  the  centuries  from  it.  So  that,  with 
all  the  dimness,  we  can  discern  that  in  him  England 
held  one  who  was  of  her  truest,  purest,  bravest,  lovingest, 
Christliest  sons. 

Collins  records  of  the  Southwells  that  the  '  antient 
and  honourable  family,'  whence  all  came,  derived  its  name 
from  the  town  of  Southwell,  in  Nottinghamshire,  where 
he  says,  the  *  chief  branch  continued  to  reside  until  the 


XXXVl  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

reign  of  Henry  VI.'  The  first  ancestor,  however,  of  the 
Norfolk  house — our  Worthy's — found  in  the  Pedigrees  ; 
and  I  have  wearied  myself  over  well-nigh  '  endless  gene- 
alogies'— was  John  Southwell,  of  Felix  Hall  in  Essex, 
who  was  M.P.  for  Lewes  in  Sussex  in  28  and  29  Henry 
VI.  He  had  two  sons,  Robert  and  John.  John  was 
ancestor  to  the  Southwells  now  represented  by  Vis- 
count Southwell  in  Ireland.  Robert  Southwell,  the 
elder  son,  succeeded  his  father  at  Felix  Hall.  In  1415, 
according  to  Collins,  he  was  made  trustee  to  the  Dukk 
OF  Norfolk.  He  married  Isabella,  daughter  of  John 
Boys,  Esq.  of  Norfolk,  and  had  by  her  Richard,  his  son 
and  heir,  who  in  the  Act  of  Resumption  (3  and  4  Ed- 
ward IV.)  had  his  grant  from  the  King  saved.  This 
Richard's  first  wife  was  Amy,  daughter  and  heiress  of 
Sir  Edmund  Wychingham,  of  Wood-rising  in  Norfolk 
(by  Alice,  daughter  and  heiress  of  Sir  John  Falstolfe, 
'  a  name  to  conjure  with').  With  her,  he  obtained  the 
manor  of  Wood-rising, '  where — quitting  Felix  Hall — he 
fixed  his  residence,  and  there  his  posterity  had  a  noble 
seat  and  fine  park,  which  continued  in  the  family  for 
many  generations.'  There  were  two  sons  of  this  mar- 
riage ;  but  Sir  Robert,  the  elder,  died  without  issue  in 
1513.  Francis  Southwell,  his  brother,  was  Auditor 
of  the  Exchequer  to  Henry  VIII.  ;  and  by  Dorothy, 
daughter  and  co-heir  of  William  Tendring,  Esq.,  had 
four  sons — ] .  Sir  Richard  Southwell,  his  heir.  2. 
Sir  Robert,  Master  of  the  Rolls.  3.  Francis.  4.  An- 
thony. For  the  descendants  of  the  latter  three  I  must 
refer  those  curious  in  such  matters  to  Blomefield's  well- 
known  county  History.  I  limit  myself,  except  in  one 
memorable  thing   to  be  after-noted,   to    Sir    Richard 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  XXXVU 

SouTHWELi,  and  his  line.  He  was  our  Poet's  grand- 
father. Of  him  Blomefield,  under  Wood  Rysing,  thus 
recounts  his  'honours:'  *  He  was  a  great  favourite  of 
King  Henry  VIII. ;  one  of  the  visitors  appointed  by 
him  of  the  monasteries  in  Norfolk  on  their  suppression ; 
of  the  Privy- council  to  that  King,  Edward  VI.,  and 
Queen  Mary  ;  master  of  the  ordnance  and  armory ;  one 
of  the  executors  to  Henry  VIII. ;  and  high-steward  of 
the  Duchy  of  Lancaster.'^  Farther  :  '  In  the  reign  of 
Queen  Mary  he  made  a  remarkable  speech  (1554)  in  the 
House  of  Lords  (sic)  on  that  Queen's  being  with  child, 
and  an  act  of  Parliament  thereon  passed ;  about  the 
government  of  the  realm,  and  the  person  of  the  child,  in 
case  of  that  Queen's  decease.'^  The  county  History  also 
enumerates  about  thirty  manors  in  Norfolk  of  which  this 
Sir  Richard  Southwell  was  lord  in  37  Henuy  VIII. 
It  also  states,  *  Great  part  of  his  inheritance,  with  this 
lordship  (Wood-rising),  came  to  his  nephew,  Thomas 
Southwell,  son  of  Sir  Robert  Southwell  by  Mar- 
garet his  wife,  daughter  and  sole  heir  of  Thomas  Nevill, 
fourth  son  of  George,  Lord  Abergavenny. '^  Unhap- 
pily this  Sir  Richard  Southwell  introduced  not  a  few 
bars  sinister  (if  I  may  venture  to  use  heraldic  phraseo- 
logy) into  the  House.'*     During  the  lifetime  of  his  first 

'  Blomefield,  vol.  x.  pp.  276-7,  eel.  1809. 

-  HoUiugshecl,  p.  112-1.  ^  Blomefield,  as  before. 

■■  Blomefield  refers,  in  his  account  of  the  illegitimate  family 
of  Sib  Richard,  to  Su-  Henry  Spelman's  History  of  Sacrilege, 
p.  270.  I  may  remark  in  passing  (with  all  reverence)  that  it 
was  part  of  the  '  humiliation'  of  The  Lord  to  have  in  His  human 
descent  not  gi'eat  and  holy  ones  merely,  hut  this  record  also : 
'  Salmon  begat  Booz  of  Rachah ;  and  Booz  begat  Ohed  of  Ruth' 
(St.  Matthew  i.  5). 


XXXVl  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

reign  of  Henry  VI.'  The  first  ancestor,  however,  of  the 
Norfolk  house — our  Worthy's — found  in  the  Pedigrees  ; 
and  I  have  wearied  myself  over  well-nigh  '  endless  gene- 
alogies'— was  John  Southwell,  of  Felix  Hall  in  Essex, 
who  was  M.P.  for  Lewes  in  Sussex  in  28  and  29  Henry 
VI.  He  had  two  sons,  Robert  and  John.  John  was 
ancestor  to  the  SouTH^YELLS  now  represented  by  Vis- 
count Southwell  in  Ireland.  Robert  Southwell,  the 
elder  son,  succeeded  his  father  at  Felix  Hall.  In  1415, 
according  to  Collins,  he  was  made  trustee  to  the  Duke 
OF  Norfolk.  He  married  Isabella,  daughter  of  John 
Boys,  Esq.  of  Norfolk,  and  had  by  her  Richard,  his  son 
and  heir,  v^ho  in  the  Act  of  Resumption  (3  and  4  Ed- 
ward IV.)  had  his  grant  from  the  King  saved.  This 
Richard's  first  wife  was  Amy,  daughter  and  heiress  of 
Sir  Edmund  Wychingham,  of  Wood-rising  in  Norfolk 
(by  Alice,  daughter  and  heiress  of  Sir  John  Falstolfe, 
*a  name  to  conjure  with').  With  her,  he  obtained  the 
manor  of  Wood-rising, '  where —  quitting  Felix  Hall — he 
fixed  his  residence,  and  there  his  posterity  had  a  noble 
seat  and  fine  park,  which  continued  in  the  family  for 
many  generations.'  There  were  two  sons  of  this  mar- 
riage ;  but  Sir  Robert,  the  elder,  died  without  issue  in 
1513.  Francis  Southwell,  his  brother,  was  Auditor 
of  the  Exchequer  to  Henry  VIII.  ;  and  by  Dorothy, 
(laughter  and  co-heir  of  William  Tendring,  Esq.,  had 
four  sons — ].  Sir  Richard  Southwell,  his  heir.  2. 
Sir  Robert,  Master  of  the  Rolls.  3.  Francis.  4.  An- 
thony. For  the  descendants  of  the  latter  three  I  must 
refer  those  curious  in  such  matters  to  Blomefield's  well- 
known  county  History.  I  limit  myself,  except  in  one 
memorable  thing   to  be  after-noted,   to    Sir    Richard 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  XXXvii 

Southwell  and  his  line.  He  was  our  Poet's  grand- 
father. Of  him  Blomkfield,  under  Wood  Rysing,  thus 
recounts  his  'honours:'  'He  was  a  great  favourite  of 
King  Heniiy  VIII. ;  one  of  the  visitors  appointed  by 
him  of  the  monasteries  in  Norfolk  on  their  suppression ; 
of  the  Privy-council  to  that  King,  Edward  VI.,  and 
Queen  Mary  ;  master  of  the  ordnance  and  armory ;  one 
of  the  executors  to  Henry  VIII. ;  and  high-steward  of 
the  Duchy  of  Lancaster.'^  Farther  :  '  In  the  reign  of 
Queen  Mary  he  made  a  remarkable  speech  (1554)  in  the 
House  of  Lords  (sic)  on  that  Queen's  being  with  child, 
and  an  act  of  Parliament  thereon  passed ;  about  the 
government  of  the  realm,  and  the  person  of  the  child,  in 
case  of  that  Queen's  decease.'^  The  county  History  also 
enumerates  about  thirty  manors  in  J^^orfolk  of  which  this 
Sir  Richard  Southwell  was  lord  in  37  Henry  VIII. 
It  also  states,  '  Great  part  of  his  inheritance,  with  this 
lordship  (Wood-rising),  came  to  his  nephew,  Thomas 
Southwell,  son  of  Sir  Robert  Southwell  by  Mar- 
garet his  wife,  daughter  and  sole  heir  of  Thomas  JSTevill, 
fourth  son  of  George,  Lord  Abergavenny.'^  Unhap- 
pily this  Sir  Richard  Southwell  introduced  not  a  few 
bars  sinister  (if  I  may  venture  to  use  heraldic  phraseo- 
logy) into  the  House.^     Diirmg  the  lifetime  of  his  first 

'  Blomefield,  vol.  x.  pp.  276-7,  ed.  1809. 

■  Hollingshed,  p.  112-1.  ^  Blomefield,  as  before. 

*  Blomefield  refers,  in  his  account  of  the  illegitimate  family 
of  Sir  Richard,  to  Sir  Henry  Spelman's  History  of  Sacrilege, 
p.  270.  I  may  remark  in  passing  (with  all  reverence)  that  it 
was  part  of  the  '  humiliation'  of  The  Lord  to  have  in  His  human 
descent  not  gi-eat  and  holy  ones  merely,  but  this  record  also : 
'  Salmon  begat  Booz  of  Rachab ;  and  Booz  begat  Obed  of  Ruth' 
(St.  Matthew  i.  5). 


XXXVl  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

reign  of  Henry  VI.'  The  first  ancestor,  however,  of  the 
Norfolk  house — our  Worthy's — found  in  the  Pedigrees  ; 
and  I  have  wearied  myself  over  well-nigh  '  endless  gene- 
alogies'— was  John  Southwell,  of  Felix  Hall  in  Essex, 
who  was  M.P.  for  Lewes  in  Sussex  in  28  and  29  Henry 
VI.  He  had  two  sons,  Robert  and  John.  John  was 
ancestor  to  the  Southwells  now  represented  by  Vis- 
count Southwell  in  Ireland.  Robert  Southwell,  the 
elder  son,  succeeded  his  father  at  Felix  Hall.  In  1415, 
according  to  Collins,  he  was  made  trustee  to  the  Dukk 
OF  Norfolk.  He  married  Isabella,  daughter  of  John 
Boys,  Esq.  of  Norfolk,  and  had  by  her  Richard,  his  son 
and  heir,  vi^ho  in  the  Act  of  Resumption  (3  and  4  Ed- 
ward IV.)  had  his  grant  from  the  King  saved.  This 
Richard's  first  wife  was  Amy,  daughter  and  heiress  of 
Sir  Edmund  Wychingham,  of  Wood-rising  in  Norfolk 
(by  Alice,  daughter  and  heiress  of  Sir  John  Falstolfe, 
'a  name  to  conjure  with').  With  her,  he  obtained  the 
manor  of  Wood -rising, '  where — quitting  Felix  Hall — he 
fixed  his  residence,  and  there  his  posterity  had  a  noble 
seat  and  fine  park,  which  continued  in  the  family  for 
many  generations.'  There  were  two  sons  of  this  mar- 
riage ;  but  Sir  Robert,  the  elder,  died  without  issue  in 
1513.  Francis  Southwell,  his  brother,  was  Auditor 
of  the  Exchequer  to  Henry  VIII.  ;  and  by  Dorothy, 
(laughter  and  co-heir  of  William  Tendring,  Esq.,  had 
four  sons — 1.  Sir  Richard  Southwell,  his  heir.  2. 
Sir  Robert,  Master  of  the  Rolls.  3.  Francis.  4.  An- 
thony. For  the  descendants  of  the  latter  three  I  must 
refer  those  curious  in  such  matters  to  Blomefield's  well- 
known  county  History.  I  limit  myself,  except  in  one 
memorable   thing   to  be  after-noted,   to    Sir    Richard 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  XXXVll 

Southwell  and  his  line.  He  was  our  Poet's  grand- 
father. Of  him  Blomefikld,  under  Wood  Rysing,  thus 
recounts  his  'honours:'  *  He  was  a  great  favourite  of 
King  Henry  VIII. ;  one  of  the  visitors  appointed  by 
him  of  the  monasteries  in  Norfolk  on  their  suppression ; 
of  the  Privy-council  to  that  King,  Edward  VI.,  and 
Queen  Mary  ;  master  of  the  ordnance  and  armory  ;  one 
of  the  executors  to  Henry  VIII. ;  and  high-steward  of 
the  Duchy  of  Lancaster.'^  Farther :  *  In  the  reign  of 
Queen  Mary  he  made  a  remarkable  speech  (1554)  in  the 
House  of  Lords  (sic)  on  that  Queen's  being  with  child, 
and  an  act  of  Parliament  thereon  passed ;  about  the 
government  of  the  realm,  and  the  person  of  the  child,  in 
case  of  that  Queen's  decease.'^  The  county  History  also 
enumerates  about  thirty  manors  in  ]^forfolk  of  which  this 
Sir  Richard  Southwell  was  lord  in  37  Henry  VIII. 
It  also  states,  '  Great  part  of  his  inheritance,  with  this 
lordship  (Wood-rising),  came  to  his  nephew,  Thomas 
Southwell,  son  of  Sir  Robert  Southwell  by  Mar- 
garet his  wife,  daughter  and  sole  heir  of  Thomas  !N"evill, 
fourth  son  of  George,  Lord  Abergavenny. '^  Unhap- 
pily this  Sir  Richard  Southwell  introduced  not  a  few 
bars  sinister  (if  I  may  venture  to  use  heraldic  phraseo- 
logy) into  the  House. ^     During  the  lifetime  of  his  first 

'  Blomefield,  vol.  x.  pp.  276-7,  ed.  1809. 

2  HoUingshed,  p.  1124.  '  Blomefield,  as  before. 

^  Blomefield  refers,  in  his  account  of  the  illegitimate  family 
of  Sir  Richard,  to  Sir  Henry  Spelman's  History  of  Sacrilege, 
p.  270.  I  may  remark  in  passing  (with  all  reverence)  that  it 
was  part  of  the  '  humiliation'  of  The  Lord  to  have  in  His  human 
descent  not  gi-eat  and  holy  ones  merely,  hut  this  record  also : 
'  Salmon  begat  Booz  of  Rachab ;  and  Booz  begat  Obed  of  Ruth' 
(St.  Blatthew  i.  5). 


XXXviii  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

wife,  by  Mary,  daughter  of  Thomas  Darcy,  of  Danbury 
— who  eventually  became  his  second  wife — he  had  a  num- 
ber of  children.  The  first,  Richard,  was  eldest  son,  of 
Horsham  St.  Faith's,  Norfolk,  who  was  Hving  there  27 
Elizabeth  [1585-6].  He  died  a  prisoner  in  the  Fleet. 
He  was  Father  of  our  Southwell  by  Bridget,  daughter 
of  Sir  Roger  Copley  of  Roughway,  county  Sussex  (by 
Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Sir  WiUiam  Shelley),  his  first 
wife — his  second  wife  having  been  Margaret,  daughter 
of  John  Styles,  Parson  of  Ellingham.  Of  the  first  mar- 
riage— with  which  alone  we  are  concerned — there  were 
issue  as  follows  :  1.  Richard,  eldest  son,  of  Spixworth, 
county  Norfolk,  who  married  Alice,  daughter  of  Sir 
Thomas  Cornwallis  of  Brome,  county  Suffolk,  whence 
descend  the  Southwells  of  Kinsale  in  Ireland,  Barons  de 
Clifford.     2.  Thomas,  second  son. 

3.  Robert,  our  Poet. 

4.  Mary,  who  married  Edward  Banister  of  Idsworth, 
county  Hants,  Esq.  (ms.  2d.  14.186  Coll.  Armor.)  5, 
Other  four  daughters.  I  do  not  think  it  necessary  to 
record  other  issue  after  the  second  marriage. 

Robert  Southwell  was  thus  the  third  son  of  Richard 
Southwell,  Esq.  of  Horsham  St.  Faith's,  which  '  estate,' 
and  its  acquisition,  is  thus  described  by  Blomefield  (as 
before) :  '  The  site  of  this  priory,  with  the  lordship,  lands, 
appropriated  rectory,  and  the  rectory  and  advowson  of 
Horsford,  were  granted  about  the  36th  of  Henry  VIII. 
to  Sir  Richard  Southwell,  of  Wood-rising  in  Norfolk, 
and  Edward  Elrington  (not  Ebrington,  as  inadvertently 
misprinted  by  Turnbull).     Richard  Southwell,  Esq. 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  XXXIX 

held  it  in  1588,  who  sold  it  to  Sir  Henry  Hob  art,  the 
judge,  and  his  son  Sm  John  inherited  it.' 

Turning  back  a  moment,  our  Readers  will  have  ob- 
served the  occurrence  of  the  name  of  Shelley  in  these 
genealogical  details.  It  is  to  be  remembered  ;  for  Eliza- 
beth, daughter  of  Sir  William  Shelley,  and  mother  of 
Bridget  Copley,  in  turn  mother  of  our  Worthy,  hnks 
the  Poet  of  '  Mteoniai'  and  '  Myrtai'  with  the  mightier 
Percy  Bysshe  Shelley.     A  short  table  shows  this  : 

John  Shelley,  Esq.  =  Elizabeth,  d.  and  h.  of  John  Michelgrove, 
I  of  Michelgrove,  co.  Sussex. 


Sir  William  Shelley,  Edward  Shelley,  second  son  of  the  chief  of  the 

Knt.,  eldest  son ;  one  House,  settled  at  Worminghurst  Park,  co.  Kent, 

of  the  Justices  of  the  and  from  whom,  says  W.  M.  ROSSETTI,  Esq., 

Court    of    Common  in  his  Memoir  of  J.  P.  Shelley,  '  descends 

Pleas.  that  branch  of  the  family  which  has  achieveil 

some  fleeting  distinction  in  the  way  of  a  peer- 
age and  a  second  baronetcy  (the  first  baronetcy, 
in  the  older  line,  dates  fi-om  1611),  and  an 
eternal  distinction  iii  giving  birth  to  the  "  poet 
of  poets."  '  ( Works,  vol.  i.  pp.  xxx.-i.  1870.) 

In  other  lines  there  is  like  association  with  other  his- 
toric names  —  Sidney,  Newton,  Howard,  Paston,  and 
William  Lenthall,  Speaker  of  the  Long  Parliament. 
But  the  family  branches  and  twigs,  marriages  and  inter- 
marriages, noble  and  base,  renowned  and  commonplace,  of 
the  Southwell  Family  I  must  leave  to  be  followed  up 
by  those  wishful  to  do  so.  I  place  below  helps  and  au- 
thorities.^ 

>  Besides  Blomefield,  Collins,  Burke  and  the  usual  autho- 
rities, I  am  indebted  to  my  never-faUing  friend,  the  Rev.  J.  H. 
Clark,  M.A.,  of  West  Dereham,  Norfolk,  for  full  notes  from, 
among  others,  the  'Visitation  of  Norfolk'  (1563),  published  by 
the  Norfolk  ArchiT^ological  Society,  continued  and  enlarged  by 
the  late  Rev.  G.  H.  Dashwood,  M.A.  F.S.A.,  and  other  Norfolk 
genealogists  (18G5).     Harleian  MS.  1178  is  the  basis. 


xl  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

Resident,  as  undoubtedly  Richard  Soutiiweli,  was, 
at  Horsham  St.  Faith's  at  the  period,  there  seems  no 
reasonable  doubt  that  Robert  was  born  there,  and  not  in 
Suffolk,  as  Pits  earlier,  and  Fuller  copying  him,  stated. 
After-dates,  that  will  come  out  in  the  sequel,  enable  us 
to  fix  his  birth  in  1560-1,  or  just  about  the  time  that 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots — of  whom  he  was  destined  to  sing 
pathetically — '  landed'  from  France  in  her  native  Scot- 
land. A  singular  anecdote  has  been  transmitted  of  him 
while  an  infant — curiously  repeated  in  other  Lives,  as  is 
familiar  to  all — viz.  that  he  was  stolen  from  his  cradle 
by  a  vagabond  woman  or  '  gipsy.'  Being,  however, 
speedily  missed  by  his  nurse,  he  was  almost  immediately 
recovered.^  This  *  deliverance'  was  tenderly  and  grate- 
fully remembered  in  after  years.  '  What,'  exclaims  he, 
'  if  I  had  remained  with  the  vagrant  ?  how  abject  I  how 
destitute  of  the  knowledge  or  reverence  of  God  !  in  what 
debasement  of  vice,  in  what  great  peril  of  crimes,  in  what 
indubitable  risk  of  a  miserable  death  and  eternal  punish- 
ment I  should  have  been  V- 

Where  he  began  to  *  learn  letters'  has  not  been  told  : 
but  he  was  sent  over  '  very  young'  to  Douai.  Inquiries 
there  have  resulted  in  the  information  that  the  French 
Revolution  made  havoc  of  the  Books  and  Papers  there, 
so  that  no  memorial  exists  of  its  early  *  scholars.'"'   In  his 

'  TuKNBULL  states  that  the  vagrant  '  substituted  for  him 
her  own  child,'  and  '  confessed  to  have  been  jiromi^ted  to  the 
crime  for  the  sake  of  gain'  (p.  xiv.). 

■•^  TuRNBULL,  as  before,  quotes  this  p.  xiv. 

'  From  our  correspondence  with  the  Librarian  of  Douai  we 
had  hoped  to  find  in  the  possession  of  H.E.  the  Archbishop  of 
Westminster  (Dr.  Manning)  an  early  ms.  roll  of  alumni  belong- 
ing to  the  College ;    but,  in  a  coiu-teous  answer  to  my  appli- 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  xli 

15th  year  he  passed  to  Pauis,  where  he  came  under  the 
care,  religiously  and  educationally,  of  a  once  famous 
Englishman,  Father  Thomas  Darbyshire,  who.  Arch- 
deacon of  Essex,  for '  conscience'  sake'  made  a  sacrifice  of 
all  his  preferments  on  the  accession  of  Elizabeth.^  This 
'  Master'  was  among  the  earliest  from  England  to  'join' 
the  Society  of  Jesus  ;  and  we  cannot  doubt  that  his  per- 
fervid  zeal  and  example  quickened  his  pupil's  desire  to 
give  himself  to  the  same  Order.  In  1578  at  Rome,  be- 
fore he  was  17,  he  was  enrolled  '  amongst  the  children' 
of  St.  Ignatius.  The  date  of  this  event— so  central  in 
his  short  Life— is  noticeable.  It  was  on  the  vigil  of  St. 
Luke  (17th  October):  and  it  is  pleasant  to  conclude 
that  as  the  vigil  of  St.  Luke  was  also  St.  Faith's-day 
(Old  style),  he  chose  that  day  in  honour  of  his  native 
place,  Horsham  St.  Faith's.  The  thing  has  not  hitherto 
been  pointed  out ;  but  it  seems  to  verify  itself  as  well  as 
confirm  the  birthplace.  ^ 

Young  as  he  was,  he  had  thought  of  it  long  before 
he  was  '  received.'  Here  is  his  plaint,  rather  than  com- 
plaint :  '  Divulsum  ab  illo  corpore,  in  quo  posita  sunt 
mea  vita,  mens  amor,  totum  cor  meum,  omnesque  ef- 
fectus.'-'^  He  still  pursued  his  '  studies,'  and  spent  a  con- 
cation,  H.E.  informed  me  that  he  had  uo  such  ms.  Suggest- 
ing that  it  might  be  preserved  at  Ushaw,  I  j^pplied  there^also ; 
but  Dr.  Tate  had  to  report  that  there  was  nothing  of  the  kind 
there. 

'  See  Dr.  Oliver's  'Collections  towards  illustrating  the  Bio- 
gi-aphy  of  the  Scotch,  English,  and  Irish  members  of  the  Society 
of  Jesus:'  (184.5)  p.  80,  and  references  to  Tanner  and  to  Wood's 
A  tliencB. 

-  I  am  indebted  to  the  very  Reverend  Dr.  Husenbeth,  Cossey, 
Norwich,  for  the  interesting  suggestion. 

•  Mori,  Hist.  Prov.  Angl.  Soc.  Jesu,  p.  173. 

./ 


xlii  MEMOUIAL-INTRODTJCTION. 

siderable  portion  of  his  '  noviciate'  at  Tournay  in  Bel- 
gium, its  climate  being  pronounced  milder  and  more 
suited  to  his  constitution. ^  The  little  Memoir  in  Bishop 
Challoneu's  '  Memoirs  of  Missionary  Priests,  as  well 
Secular  as  Regular,  and  of  other  Catholics  of  both  sexes 
that  have  suffered  death  in  England  on  Religious  Ac- 
counts, from  the  year  of  our  Lord  1577  to  1684'  (1741, 
8vo),  thus  summarises  these  years  :  '  He  was  sent  over 
young  to  Doway,  where  he  was,  for  some  time,  ahminus 
of  the  English  College  or  Seminary  in  that  University. 
From  thence  he  went  to  Rome,  and  there  was  received 
into  the  Society  of  Jesus  when  he  was  but  sixteen  [in 
17th]  years  of  age.  Having  finish'd  his  noviceship,  and 
gone  thro'  his  course  of  Philosophy  and  Divinity  with 
very  great  satisfaction  of  his  Superiors,  he  was  made 
Prefect  of  the  Studies  in  the  English  College  of  Rome, 
and  took  that  opportunity  of  applying  himself  to  the 
study  of  his  native  language,  in  which  he  proved  no  small 
proficient,  as  the  elegant  pieces,  both  in  Prose  and  Verse, 
which  he  has  publish'd  in  print  abundantly  demonstrate.'^ 
The  name  of  I<iXATius  Loyola  was  still  a  recent  '  me- 

'  We  learn  this  from  More  :  '  Ne  videlicet  ardeutem  Sanctis 
desideriis  juvenem,  immoderatis  Italia3  nestibus  uondum  parem, 
duo  in  uno  corpora  calores  opprimerent,  utque  tarn  prfeclaris 
dotibus  ornato,  et  qui  per  ardorem  qnoerendi  spem  excitaverat 
exiraia  quiedam  adipiscendi,  non  sola  Roma  uobilitaretur.'  (Mori 
Hist.  Prov.  Angl.  Soc.  Jesu,  p.  177.) 

2  P.  324.  The  same  data  are  found  in  More  (as  before),  as 
follows  :  '  Romam  Tornaco  rursus  vocatus  ad  pliilosophos,  theo- 
loKOsque  audiendos,  neque  ingenio,  neque  industria,  neque  laude 
studiorum,  aut  fructu,  neque  vita  cum  virtute  acta  cuiquam  se 
passus  est  esse  inf eriorem.  Et  ingenii  qnidem  et  industrial  laus 
in  univers.-c  philosophic  decretis  propugnaudis  euituit;  tum 
etiam,  cum  post  decursnm  thcologife  stadium,  aliorum  studiis  est 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  xliii 

mory'  and  power  (he  died  on  July  31st,  1556,  or  only  at 
most  five  years  before  Southwell's  birth),  and  his  mag- 
nificent and  truly  apostolic  example  of  burning  love,  com- 
passion, faith,  zeal,  self-denial  charged  the  very  atmo- 
sphere with  sympathy  as  with  electricity;  so  that  it  is  no 
marvel  our  Worthy  gave  himself  with  a  fine  self-forget- 
falness  and  consecration  to  that  Work  in  which  the  great 
Founder  of  the  Order  wore  out  his  life.  The  Society 
was  then  in  its  first  fresh  '  love'  and  force,  unentangled 
with  political  action  (real  or  alleged)  ;  and  I  pity  the 
Protestant  who  does  not  recognise  in  Loyola  and  his 
disciples  noble  men,  who,  in  the  fear  of  God  and  with  a 
passion  sprung  of  compassion,  went  forth  with  the  shigle 
object  to  win  allegiance  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  I 
'  intermeddle'  not  with  later  complications  and  actual  or 
imagined  degeneracies  into  mere  political  interferences 
and  '  plottings.'  I  wish  to  hold  up  clear  and  high  the 
indubitable  fact  that  Loyola  himself  and  (I  believe)  the 
great  body  of  his  followers  at  the  period  in  which  we.  are 
concerned,  were  'priests'  seeking  supremely  to  do  spiri- 
tual duty  and  not  to  engage  in  treasons,  stratagems,  and 
spoils. 

That  Southwell  and  others  contemporary  had  the 
hearts  of  true  Englishmen  of  '  gentle'  descent,  and  that 
what  they  sought  was  '  religious'  good  for  their  country 
and  countrymen,  with  not  a  shadow  of  thought  or  '  plot- 
ting' against  Elizabeth,  I  cannot  for  a  moment  doubt 


praefectus  iu  Anglicano  de  urbe  Seminario  ;  in  (j[uo  juventus  id 
temporis  copiosissima,  et  ingeniorum  varietate,  et  splendore 
florentissima  uon facile  nisi  ab  omnibus  doetriniB  pncsidiis oinato 
atque  instructo  duccbatur.'  (p.  179.) 


xliv  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

in  the  face  of  their  pathetic  and  (in  the  circumstances) 
brave  words  as  'on  oath;'  and  none  the  less  that  as  a 
Protestant  I  must  rejoice  tliat  The  Eeformation  in  Eng- 
land was  not  undone.  I  have  that  faith  in  Truth  that 
makes  me  confident  that  it  was  no  righteous  way  to  pre- 
serve The  Reformation  to  'persecute'  and  slay  cruelly 
and  meanly  those  who  held  to  the  '  old  Religion'  in  its 
old  forms.  The  contest  might  have  been  more  prolonged 
and  the  final  issue  different :  but  prolongation  is  not 
always  delay  or  loss,  and  difference  does  not  necessarily 
involve  a  less  desirable  result.  Of  this  I  am  satisfied 
that  the  '  Blood-shedding'  tragically  and  sorrowfully  re- 
corded in  Bishop  Challoner's  matter-full  '  Memoirs'  and 
Dodd's  great  *  Church  History  of  England,'  and  Dr.  Oli- 
ver's '  Collections,'  wears  as  black  a  colour  as  any  in 
FoxE.     There  is  no  monopoly  of  martyrdoms. 

Our  Worthy  repeatedly  gives  utterance  to  his  love 
for  his  Order,  and  Tanner  furnishes  many  quotable  bits: 
e.g.  '  Nescio  an  quis  alius  unquampost  sanctissimum  Pa- 
rentem  ejus  Ignatium,  majorem  de  Societate  Jesu  sen- 
sum,  majorem  vocationis  sure  foverit  sestimationem,  quam 
RoBERTUs  SouTHWELLUS.  .  .  .  Scripsit  aliquando  in  sua 
ad  socios  Romam  epistola  S.  Xaverius,  oeternum  anim^ 
su£e  exitium  imprecans,  si  unquam  ab  amore  dilectissimje 
su«  religionis  descisceret :  "  si  oblitus,"  inquit,  "  fuero 
tui,  0  Societas  Jesu,  oblivion!  detur  dextera  mea."  Sed 
an  non  sublimes  ejus  de  hoc  ordine  conceptus  adajquarit, 
si  non  superaret  Robertus,  clarissimo  in  Anglia  gentis 
SouthweUiae  natus  sanguine,  ex  his  qua^  sua  propria  manu 
consignavit,  patebit.'^ 

'  TauucT,  Soc.  Jesu  Martyr,  p.  30:  quoted  by  Tuknuull 
(p.  XV.). 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  xlv 

Thus  Haming  witli  the  very  '  fire'  of  the  dauntless 
Founder,  Southwell  was  '  ordained  Priest'  in  tlie  sum- 
mer of  1584,  and  being  appointed  to  the  Mission  to  Eng- 
land, proceeded  to  his  native  country.  He  left  Eome  on 
8th  May  1586.^  He  had  earnestly  sought  the  'perilous' 
commission,  as  appears  from  a  letter  to  the  General  dated 
20th  February  1585,  '  wherein  his  future  martyrdom 
seems  rather  to  have  been  anticipated,  than  merely  re- 
ferred to  as  a  simple  possibility.'2  Another  letter  from 
Porto,  written  on  5th  July  1586,  while  on  his  way  to 
England,  breathes  the  yearning  '  haste'  of  The  Lord  as 
He  went  up  for  the  last  time  to  Jerusalem.  Even  in 
the  quaint  old  Latin  these  '  Epistolaj'  pulsate  and  throb 
with  emotion.  I  do  not  envy  the  Reader  who  can  rise 
with  dry  eyes  from  Father  More's  '  History'  which  con- 
tains them.2 

We  get  passing  glimpses  of  our  Southwell  in  the 
Life  of  Father  John  Gerard,  published  only  recently 
in  the  following  very  weighty  and  remarkable  book  :  '  The 
Condition  of  Catholics  under  James  L  Father  Gerard's 
Narrative  of  the  Gunpowder  Plot.  Edited,  with  his  Life, 
by  John  Morris,  Priest  of  the  Society  of  Jesus.  1871. 
(8vo,  Longmans).'  I  know  not  that  I  can  do  better  than 
at  this  point  glean  these  notices.  So  far  as  I  can  make 
out,  the  first  belongs  to  1588,  and  thus  runs  :  '  On  my 
arrival  in  London,  by  the  help  of  certain  Catholics,  I  dis- 
covered Father  Henry  Garnett,  who  was  then  Superior. 

•  Bp.  Challoner  (as  before)  inadvertently  assigns  the  depar- 
ture to  1584  (p.  324).  It  is  plain  by  the  Letters  in  More  that 
it  was  not  until  158(;,  as  Dr.  Oliver  states  (p.  194). 

■■^    TUKNDULL,  p.  XVi. 

^  See  pp.  182-183,  for  these  Letters. 


xlvi  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

Besides  him,  the  only  others  of  our  Society  then  in  Eng- 
land were  Father  Edmund  Weston,  confined  at  Wisbech 
(who,  had  he  been  at  large,  would  have  been  Superior),  i^a- 
tlter  Robert  Soutlnvell,  and  us  two  new-comers.'^  Again  : 
'  My  companion.  Father  Ouldcorne,  had  already  ar- 
rived, so  the  Superior  was  rather  anxious  on  my  account, 
as  nothing  had  been  heard  of  me ;  but  yet  for  that  very 
reason  hopes  were  entertained  of  my  safety.  It  was  with 
exceeding  joy  on  both  sides  that  we  met  at  last.  I  stayed 
some  time  with  the  Fathers,  and  we  held  frequent  con- 
sultations as  to  our  future  proceedings.  The  good  Su- 
pei'ior  gave  us  excellent  instructions  as  to  the  method  of 
bel2)ing  and  gaining  souls,  as  did  also  Father  Southwell, 
tvho  much  excelled  in  that  art,  being  at  once pnalent,  pious, 
meek,  and  exceedingly  winning!'^  Once  more  :  *  Next 
morning  [after  account  of  a  meeting  in  Worcestershire], 
about  five  o'clock,  when  Father  Southwell  was  beginning 
Mass,  and  the  others  and  myself  were  at  meditation,  I 
heard  a  bustle  at  the  house-door.  Directly  after,  I  heard 
cries  and  oaths  poured  forth  against  the  servant  for  re- 
fusing admittance.  The  fact  was,  that  four  Priest- 
hunters,  or  pursuivants,  as  they  are  called,  with  drawn 
swords  were  trying  to  break  down  the  door  and  force 
an  entrance.  The  faithful  servant  withstood  them,  other- 
wise we  should  have  been  all  made  prisoners.  But  by 
this  time  Father  Southwell  had  heard  the  uproar,  and 
guessing  what  it  meant,  had  at  once  taken  off  his  vest- 
ments and  stripped  the  altar ;  while  we  strove  to  seek  out 
everything  belonging  to  us,  so  that  there  might  be  no- 
thing found  to  betray  the  presence  of  a  Priest.  .  .  .  Hav- 

'  Pji.  xxiv.-v.  •  -  Ibid.  p.  xxv. 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  xlvii 

ing  thus  escaped  the  day's  danger,  Father  Southwell  and 
I  set  off  the  next  day  together,  as  we  had  come.'^  Far- 
ther: In  the  'journeying'  of  the  Priests  there  was  per- 
petual danger  of  betrayal  in  their  intercourse  with  the 
'  gentry.'  One  half-pathetic  half-comic  Incident  is  told 
of  a  '  gentleman'  who  '  suspected'  the  Father.  But  he 
observes,  '  after  a  day  or  so  he  quite  abandoned  all  mis- 
trust, as  I  spoke  of  hunting  and  falconry  with  all  the 
details  that  none  but  a  practised  person  could  command. '^ 
He  then  adds :  '  For  many  make  sad  blunders  in  at- 
tempting this,  as  Father  Southvell,  who  was  afterwards 
my  companion  in  many  journeys,  was  wont  to  complain. 
He  frequently  got  me  to  instruct  him  in  the  technical 
terms  of  sport,  and  used  to  complain  of  his  bad  memory 
for  such  things  ;  for  on  many  occasions  when  he  fell  in 
with  Protestant  gentlemen,  he  found  it  necessary  to 
speak  of  these  matters,  which  are  the  sole  topics  of  their 
conversation,  save  when  they  talk  obscenity  or  break  out 
into  blasphemies  and  abuse  of  the  Saints  or  the  Catholic 
faith.'s 

These  incidental  Notices  verify  at  once  the  hazard  of 
the  time  for  Priests  in  England  and  the  '  spiritual'  cha-  ' 
racter  of  the  work  prosecuted  by  our  Worthy.  Every 
other  mention  of  him  is  in  accord  with  this.  It  is  re- 
membered that  he  '  sought  out'  the  woman — his  nurse — 
who  had  rescued  him  in  his  infancy  from  the  '  gipsy'  with 
a  view  to  her  conversion  ;*  while  the  long,  intense,  wist- 
ful, most  eloquent  and  beautiful  Letters  to  his  Father 

'  Ibid.  pp.  xxxix.-xl.  _   -  Ibid.  p.  xxiii. 

'  Ibid.  pp.  xxiii. -iv. 

*  Mori  Hist.  Prov.  Angl.  Soc.  Jesu,  p.  172. 


jxlviii  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

and  Brother  remain  as  evidences  of  the  '  one  thing'  cared 
for  by  him.i 

During  his  Mission  in  England  he  had  always  a  '  re- 
fuge' and  home  in  London  in  the  house  of  Anne,  (Jountess 
of  Arundel,  whose  husband,  Philip  Howard,  Earl  of 
Arundel,  was  imprisoned  in  the  Tower  and  died  there, 
*  the  noblest  victim  to  the  jealous  and  suspicious  tyranny 
of  Elizabeth,  non  sine  veneni  suspicione,  as  his  epitaph 
still  testifies.'-  He  and  his  companion  had  gone  in  the 
outset  to  William  third  Lord  Vaux  of  Harrowden,  resi- 
dent in  then  suburban  Hackney.  But  after  a  few  months, 
when  the  Confessor  of  the  Countess  of  Arundel  died, 
Southwell  was  appointed  her  domestic  chaplain  and  con- 
fessor. It  was  while  in  this  noble  Family  that  he  com- 
posed for  the  Earl's  use  his  '  Consolation  for  Catholics' 
— of  which  more  hereafter. 

If  the  phrase  '  Reign  of  Terror'  is  historically  used 
of  that  in  France  called  '  Red,'  an  examination  of  the 
Facts — not  merely  as  told  by  Lingard,  but  as  being  in 
our  day  revealed  in  the  Calendars  of  the  Period  and  in 
such  a  book  as  Morris's  '  Condition  of  the  Catholics' — 

'  See  on  this  Letter  in  tlie  second  part  of  this  Memorial-In- 
troduction. 

-  Morris's  '  Condition  of  Catholics,'  as  before,  p.  Ivii.  It  is 
inipossihle  to  over-rate  the  permanent  historic  worth  of  this 
Work,  nor  the  painstaking  and  thoroughness  of  the  editing. 
We  may  not  agi'ee  in  some  of  the  verdicts,  must  see  things  dif- 
ferently o'  times :  hut  none  will  deny  the  weight  and  value  of 
the  hook  as  a  contribiition  to  the  ecclesiastico-historico  litera- 
ture of  England.  Might  I  suggest  to  Father  Mokkis  to  explore 
the  Mss.  at  Kome  for  notices  of  English  Catholics  undoubtedly 
lying  there  utterly  neglected?  I  and  all  who  have  to  do  with 
our  early  Literature  long  for  daylight  being  introduced  into  the 
masses  of  correspondence  buried  in  the  great  Libraries  of  Rome. 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  xHx 

shows  a  '  White'  '  Reign  of  Terror'  in  England  for  Ca- 
tholics. It  was  a  CRIME  to  be  a  Catholic :  it  was  proof 
of  high-treason  to  be  a  Priest :  it  was  to  invite  '  hunt- 
ing' as  of  a  wild-beast  to  be  a  Jesuit.  Granted  that  in 
our  Southwell's  years  ir)88  is  included,  and  that  the 
shadow  of  the  coming  of  The  Armada  lay  across  Eng- 
land from  the  very  moment  of  his  arrival.  Granted  that, 
in  the  teeth  of  their  instructions,  there  were  Priests  and 
members  of  the  Society  of  Jesus  who  deemed  they  did 
God  service  by  *  plotting'  for  Restoration  of  the  '  old 
Faith  and  Worship'  after  a  worldly  sort.  Granted  that 
politically  and  civilly  the  Nation  was  in  a  sense  in  the 
throes  of  since-achieved  liberties.  Granted  that  Mary  all 
too  sadly,  even  tremendously,  earned  her  irrevocable  epi- 
thet of  '  Bloody.'  Granted  that  the  very  mysticism,  not 
to  say  mystery,  of  the  '  higher'  sovereignty  claimed  for 
him  who  wore  the  tiara,  acted  as  darkness  does  with 
sounds  the  most  innocent.  Granted  nearly  all  that  Pro- 
testantism claims  in  its  Apology  as  a  Defence,  it  must 
be  regarded  as  a  stigma  on  the  statesmanship  and  a  stain 
on  the  Christianity  of  the  '  Reformed'  Church  of  England, 
as  well  as  a  sorrow  to  all  right-minded  and  right-hearted, 
that  the  '  convictions'  of  those  who  could  not  in  conscience 
'  change'  at  the  bidding  of  Henry  VIII.  or  Elizabeth  or 
James  were  not  respected ;  that '  opinion,'  or,  if  you  will, 
'  error,'  was  put  down  (or  attempted  to  be  put  down)  by 
force,  and  that  the  headsmaii's  axe  and  hangman's  rope 
were  the  only  instrumentalities  thought  of.  The  State 
Trials  remain  to  bring  a  blush  to  every  lover  of  his  coun- 
try for  the  brutal  and  '  hard'  mockery  of  justice  in  the 
highest  Courts  of  Law  whenever  a  '  Papist'  was  con- 
cerned— as  later  with  the  Puritans  and  Nonconformists. 

9 


I  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

Bp  Challoner  has  translated  two  Letters  of  our 
Southwell  from  the  'History  of  the  Persecutions  in 
England,'  by  Didacus  Yepes,  Bishop  of  Tarragona ;  and 
I  avail  myself  of  them  here,  as  follows  : 

The  First  Letter. 

1.  '  As  yet  we  are  alive  and  well,  being  unworthy, 
it  seems,  of  prisons.  We  have  oftener  sent,  than  re- 
ceived, letters  from  your  parts,  tho'  they  are  not  sent 
without  difficulty;  and  some,  we  know,  have  been  lost. 

2.  '  The  condition  of  Catholic  recusants  here  is  the 
sameas  usual,  deplorable  and  full  of  fears  and  dangers, 
more  especially  since  our  adversaries  have  look'd  for 
wars.  As  many  of  ours  as  are  in  chains,  rejoice,  and 
are  comforted  in  their  prisons;  and  they  that  are  at 
liberty  set  not  their  hearts  upon  it,  nor  expect  it  to  be 
of  long  continuance.  All,  by  the  great  goodness  and 
mercy  of  God,  arm  themselves  to  suffer  any  thing  that 
can  come,  how  hard  soever  it  may  be,  as  it  shall  please 
our  Lord ;  for  Whose  greater  glory,  and  the  salvation  of 
their  souls,  they  are  more  concerned  than  for  any  tem- 
poral losses. 

3.  '  A  little  while  ago,  they  apprehended  two  priests, 
who  have  suffered  such  cruel  usages  in  the  prison  of 
Bridewell,  as  can  scarce  be  believ'd.  What  was  given 
them  to  eat,  was  so  little  in  quantity,  and,  withal,  so 
filthy  and  nauseous,  that  the  very  sight  of  it  was  enough 
to  turn  their  stomachs.  The  labours  to  which  they 
obho-ed  them  were  continual  and  immoderate  ;  and  no 
lessln  sickness  than  in  health ;  for,  with  hard  blows  and 
stripes,  they  forced  them  to  accomplish  their  task,  how 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 


weak  soever  they  were.     Their  beds  were  dirty  straw, 
and  their  prison  most  filthy. 

4.  '  Some  are  there  hung  up,  for  whole  days,  by  the 
hands,  in  such  manner  that  they  can  but  just  touch  the 
ground  with  the  tips  of  their  toes.  In  fine,  they  that 
are  kept  in  that  prison,  truly  live  in  lacic  miserke  et 
in  luto  feeds  (Psalm  xxxix.).  This  Purgatory  we  are 
looking  for  every  hour,  in  which  Topliffe  and  Young, 
the  two  executioners  of  the  Catholics,  exercise  all  kinds 
of  torments.  But  come  what  pleaseth  God,  we  hope  we 
shall  be  able  to  bear  all  in  Him  that  strengthens  us. 
In  the  mean  time,  we  pray  that  they  may  be  put  to 
confusion  who  work  iniquity  :  and  that  the  Lord  may 
speak  peace  to  His  people  (Psalm  xxiv.  and  Ixxxiv.), 
that,  as  the  royal  prophet  says.  His  glory  may  dwell 
in  our  Land.  I  most  humbly  recommend  myself  to  the 
holy  sacrifices  of  your  reverence  and  of  all  our  friends. 
January  16,  1590.' 

The  Second  Letter. 

1.  'We  have  written  many  letters,  but,  it  seems, 
few  have  come  to  your  hands.  We  sail  in  the  midst  of 
these  stormy  waves,  with  no  small  danger ;  from  which, 
nevertheless,  it  has  pleased  our  Lord  hitherto  to  de- 
liver us. 

2.  *  We  have  altogether,  with  much  comfort,  renew'd 
the  vows  of  the  Society,  according  to  our  custom  spend- 
ing some  days  in  exhortations  and  spiritual  conferences. 
Aperuimus  ora,  et  attraximus  spiritum.  It  seems  to 
me  that  I  see  the  beginnings  of  a  religious  Ufe  set  on 
foot  in  England,  of  which  we  now  sow  the  seeds  with 


lii  ,   MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

tears,  that  others  hereafter  may,  with  joy,  carry  in  the 
sheaves  to  the  heavenly  granaries. 

3.  '  We  have  sung  the  canticles  of  the  Lord  in  a 
strange  land,  and,  in  this  desert,  we  have  suck'd  honey 
from  the  rock,  and  oil  from  the  hard  stone.  But  these 
our  joys  ended  in  sorrow,  and  sudden  fears  dispers'd  us 
into  different  places :  but,  in  fine,  we  were  more  afraid 
than  hurt,  for  we  all  escaped.  I,  with  another  of  ours, 
seeking  to  avoid  Scylla,  had  like  to  have  fallen  into 
Charybdis ;  but,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  we  passed  be- 
twixt them  both,  without  being  shipwreck'd,  and  are 
now  sailing  in  a  safe  harbour. 

4.  '  In  another  of  mine  I  gave  an  account  of  the 
late  martyrdoms  of  Mr.  Bayles  and  of  Mr.  Horner,  and 
of  the  edification  which  the  people  received  from  their 
holy  ends.  With  such  dews  as  these  the  Church  is 
water'd,  %it  in  stillicidiis  hujusmodi  hetetur  germmans 
(Ps.  Ixiv.).  We  also  look  for  the  time  (if  we  are  not  un- 
worthy of  so  great  a  glory)  when  our  day  (like  that  of 
the  hired  servant)  shall  come.  In  the  mean  while  I  re- 
commend myself  very  much  to  your  reverence's  prayers, 
that  the  Father  of  Lights  may  enlighten  us,  and  con- 
firm us  with  His  principal  Spirit.    Given  March  8,  1590.' 

These  Letters  are  only  two  out  of  hundreds  of  the 
like ;  and  I  for  one  deplore  that  one  so  gentle  and  lov- 
able as  Father  Southwell  had  his  heart  thus  wrung. 
But  worse  than  '  fear'  and  haunting  '  suspicion'  inevit- 
ably came.  For  about  six  years  our  Worthy  laboured 
with  consuming  devotedn^ss  and  success,  when  his  Mis- 
sion was  as  in  a  moment  ended  by  that  old  peril  of  St. 
Paul,  '■/(tlse  brethren,'  in  \i)'.)2.  The  circumstances  are  as 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  liii 

follows,  from  Turnbui.l,  verified  by  the  authorities  al- 
ready cited.  '  There  was  resident  at  Uxendon  [Woxin- 
don],  near  Harrow-on- the- Hill,  in  Middlesex,  a  Catholic 
family  of  the  name  of  Bellamy,  whom  [which?]  Southwell 
was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  and  providing  with  rehgious 
instruction  when  he  exchanged  his  ordinary  [ordinarily  ?] 
close  confinement  for  a  purer  atmosphere.  One  of  the 
daughters,  Ann,  had  in  her  early  youth  exhibited  marks  of 
the  most  vivid  and  unshakable  piety ;  but  having  been 
committed  to  the  Gatehouse  of  Westminster,  her  faith 
gradually  departed,  and  along  with  it  her  virtue.  For, 
having  formed  an  intrigue  with  the  keeper  of  the  prison, 
she  subsequently  married  him,  and  by  this  step  forfeited 
all  claim  which  she  had  by  law  or  favour  upon  her  father. 
In  order,  therefore,  to  obtain  some  fortune,  she  resolved 
to  take  advantage  of  the  act  of  27  Elizabeth,  which  made 
the  harbouring  of  a  priest  treason,  with  confiscation  of  the 
offender's  goods.  Accordingly  she  sent  a  messenger  to 
Southwell,  urging  him  to  meet  her  on  a  certain  day  and 
hour  at  her  father's  house,  whither  he,  either  in  ignor- 
ance of  what  had  happened,  or  under  the  impression  that 
she  sought  his  spiritual  assistance  through  motives  of 
penitence,  went  at  the  appointed  time.  In  the  mean 
while  having  apprised  her  husband  of  this,  as  also  of 
the  place  of  concealment  in  her  father's  house  and  the 
mode  of  access,  he  conveyed  the  information  to  Top- 
CLiFFE,  an  implacable  persecutor  and  denouncer  of  the 
Catholics,  who,  with  a  band  of  his  satellites,  surrounded 
the  premises,  broke  open  the  house,  arrested  his  Rever- 
ence, and  carried  him  off  in  open  day,  exposed  to  the  gaze 
of  the  populace. '1 

'  Pp.  xxii.-xxv. 


liv  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

Perhaps  this  account  must  be  read  awi  gravo  salis 
in  so  far  as  Ann  Bellamy  is  concerned,  seeing  that,  in 
a  Letter  of  the  justly-named  '  bloodhound'  Topcliffe, 
he  boasts  of  the  seizure  of  Southwell,  and  the  whole 
thing,  as  his  own  act,  adding,  with  a  penetration  we  at 
this  later  day  must  acknowledge :  '  It  may  please  your 
Majesty  to  consider,  I  never  did  take  so  weiglity  a  man, 
if  he  be  rightly  considered.'  The  whole  faw^ning,  cruel, 
abominable  Letter  appears  in  STRvrE.i  Jqhn  Danyell 
also  claimed  '  merit'  in  the  same  '  arrest. '2 

Carried  by  Topcliffe  to  Topcliffe's  own  dwelling, 
he  was  there  during  a  few  weeks  '  tortured'  ten  times 
with  such  pitiless  severity,  that  the  unhappy  prisoner 
complaining  of  it  to  his  judges,  declared  that  death 
should  have  been  preferable.  Nor  did  the  '  tortures'  end 
when  he  was  transferred  to  the  Gatehouse  and  the  Tower, 
the  former  kept  by  the  husband  of  the  she- Judas  who 
had  '  betrayed'  him.  How  he  was  '  agonised'  is  simply 
and  affectingly  told  by  Tanner  and  by  More.  Even 
Cecil  admitted  the  *  torture'  of  him  to  have  reached 
'  thirteen  times.'^  There  must  have  been  pauses  in  the 
cruelty,  though  not  an  hour's  release  in  the  imprison- 
ment ;  for  his  Poems  bear  hitherto  unrecognised  traces 
of  having  been  composed  in  (probably)  the  Tower,  and 
subsequent  to  the  putting  him  '  to  the  rack'  and  kindred 
atrocities  that  are  not  to  be  named.  Let  us  turn  to  these 
undoubted  reminiscences  of  his  prison-experiences  of  the 

1  Annals  of  the  Church  and  State,  vol.  iv.  p.  9  (edit,  folio, 
1731). 

2  TuENBULL,  pp.  xxvi.-vii.,  where  a  Letter  from  Danyell  is 
given  from  the  State-Paper  Office  :  Domestic,  No.  200. 

3  Cf.  More,  as  before,  p.  193. 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 


Iv 


dolorous  kind  named.    First  of  all,  in  '  Mary  Magdalen's 
Complaint  at  Christ's  Death,'  we  read, 

'  Sith  my  life  from  life  is  parted, 
Death,  come  take  thy  portion ; 
Who  survives  tohen  life  is  murdred, 
Lives  by  mere  extortion.^  (p.  62.) 

The  simile  is  somewhat  forced,  but  '  extortion'  is  more 
than  a  rhyme-word  with  '  portion.'  It  is  a  synonym  for 
'  racking'  or  '  tormenting ;'  and,  alas,  it  was  well,  or  ra- 
ther, wretchedly  known  to  him  that  one  rendered  sense- 
less through  violence  became  conscious  again  on  renewal 
of  torture.  Thus  it  was  natural  to  him  to  represent  Mary 
as  saying  that  in  her  surviving  when  Christ  her  life  had 
been  murdered,  her  sense  of  Ufe  was  only  due  to  the 
rackings  and  torments  of  her  grief.  Prisoner  in  the 
Tower,  under  the  circumstances  he  did  indeed  '  couche 
his  hfe  in  deathe's  abode.' 

But  deeper  and  more  painfully  realistic  still  are  his 
'  Life  is  but  Losse'  (pp.  81-3)  and  '  I  die  alive'  (p.  184). 
Let  the  Reader  at  once  turn  to  these  unutterably  tender 
and  pathetic  pieces,  and  slowly,  and  I  doubt  not  with 
mist  of  tears,  read  them.  Take  meanwhile  these  lines 
in  the  former : 

'  By  force  I  live,  in  will  I  wish  to  dye ;' 

and  this  complete  stanza  (iv.)  : 

'  Come,  cruell  death,  why  lingi-est  thou  so  longe  ? 

What  doth  withould  thy  dynte  from  f atall  stroke  ? 
Nowe  prest  I  am,  alas !  thou  dost  me  wi-onge. 

To  lett  me  live,  more  anger  to  provoke  : 
Thy  right  is  had  when  thou  hast  stopt  my  breathe. 
Why  shouldst  thoue  stay  to  worke  my  doohle  deathe?' 

Similar  is  the  yearning,  the  '  panting,'  the  '  sighing  of  the 


Ivi  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

prisoner,'  that  God  hears,  the  hunger  for  the  benignant 
release  of  Death,  in  '  I  dye  Alive ;'  and  there  are  like 
touches  in  '  What  joy  to  live'  (pp.  85-6).  Surely,  too, 
the  solace  of  Sleep's  sweet  forgetfulness  takes  new  soft- 
ness from  the  recollection  of  his  own  prison-sleep,  in  '  St. 
Peter's  Complaint,'  thus : 

'  Sleepe,  Death's  allye,  obliuion  of  teares, 
Silence  of  passion,  balme  of  angry  sore, 
Suspence  of  loues,  securitie  of  feares, 
Wrath's  lenitiue,  heart's  ease,  storme's  calmest  shore, 
Sense's  and  sonle's  repriuall  from  all  cumbers, 
Benumning  sense  of  ill  with  quiet  slumbers.'  (St.  cxxi.) 

It  gives  a  new  and  strange  interest  to  these  Poems  thus  to 
find  these  erewhile  overlooked  autobiographic  experiences 
worked  into  them.  Their  bearing  on  the  inevitableness 
of  his  poetic  gift  I  shall  speak  of  onwards. 

Transferred  to  a  dungeon  in  the  Tower  '  so  noisome 
and  filthy,  that  when  he  was  brought  out  at  the  end  of 
the  month  to  be  examin'd,  his  cloaths  were  quite  cover'd 
with  vermin,'  his  Father— and  one  is  grateful  to  know 
that  he  was  worthy  of  his  son  and  of  the  Letter  ad- 
dressed to  him — 'presented  a  Petition  to  the  Queen, 
humbly  begging  "  That  if  his  son  had  committed  any- 
thing for  which,  by  the  laws,  he  had  deserved  death,  he 
might  suffer  death ;  if  not,  as  he  was  a  gentleman,  he 
hoped  her  Majesty  would  be  pleased  to  order  that  he 
should  be  treated  as  a  gentleman,  and  not  be  confined 
any  longer  to  that  filthy  hole."  'i  It  argued  conscious 
innocence  politically,  and  absolute  confidence  in  the  '  ij 
not;  so  to  address  Elizabeth.  It  argued  too  recognition 
in  the  highest  quarters  of  the  justice  of  the  plea,  that 

'  Challoner,  as  before,  p.  325. 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  Ivii 

'  the  Queen  was  pleased  to  have  regard  to  this  Petition, 
and  to  order  Mr.  Southwell  a  better  lodging ;  and  to  give 
leave  to  his  father  to  supply  him  with  cloaths  and  other 
necessaries ;  and  amongst  the  rest,  with  the  books  which 
he  ask'd  for,  which  were  only  the  Holy  Bible,  and  the 
works  of  St.  Bernard. '1  The  selection  of  books,  the  Book 
of  Books  and  the  Father  of  the  Fathers  for  a  Poet,  is 
very  noteworthy :  and  through  all  his  weary  imprison- 
ment '  spiritual  things,'  not  civil  or  earthly,  were  his 
theme  when  he  'discoursed'  to  his  sister  Mary  (Mrs. 
Bannister),  or  others  permitted  occasionally  to  visit  him. 
Bishop  Challoner  tells  unexaggeratedly  and  simply 
the  story  of  the  '  beginning  of  the  end,'  and  '  the  Trial,' 
and  the  '  end,'  deriving  the  '  Trial'  from  a  ms.  in  Latin 
preserved  in  the  Archives  of  the  English  College  at  St. 
Omer's.  I  have  now  to  submit  these  successively:  first, 
the  'beginning  of  the  end,'  as  follows: 

'  He  was  kept  in  prison  three  years ;  and,  at  ten 
several  times,  was  most  cruelly  rack'd,  till,  at  length,  a 
resolution  was  taken  on  a  sudden  in  the  Council  to  have 
him  executed.  Some  days  before  his  execution  he  was 
removed  from  the  Tower  to  Newgate,  and  there  put 
down  into  the  hole  call'd  Limho ;  from  whence  he  was 
brought  out  to  suffer,  on  account  of  his  priesthood,  the 
21st  of  February  1594-5,  having  been  condemn'd  but 
the  day  before.  Care  was  taken  not  to  let  the  people 
know  before-hand  the  day  he  was  to  die,  to  hinder  their 
concourse  on  that  occasion  ;  and  a  famous  highwayman 
was  ordered  to  be  executed  at  the  same  time,  in  another 
place,  to  divert  the  crowd   from  the  sight  of  the  last 

'  Challoner,  p.  325. 


Iviii  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

conflict  of  the  servant  of  Christ :  but  these  precautions 
avail'd  nothing,  great  numbers,  and  amongst  them  many 
persons  of  distinction,  flock'd  to  Tjburn  to  be  witnesses 
of  his  glorious  martyrdom.  Hither  Mr.  Southwell  was 
drawn  on  a  sled  thro'  the  streets;  and  when  he  was  come 
to  the  place,  getting  up  into  the  cart,  he  made  the  sign 
of  the  Cross  in  the  best  manner  that  he  could,  his  hands 
being  pinion'd,  and  began  to  speak  to  the  people  those 
words  of  the  Apostle  (Rom.  xiv.).  Whether  we  live,  we 
live  to  the  Lord,  or  whether  we  die,  we  die  to  the  Lord: 
therefore,  whether  we  live  or  die,  we  belong  to  the  Lord. 
Here  the  sheriff  would  have  interrupted  him  ;  but  he 
begged  leave  that  he  might  go  on,  assuring  him,  that 
he  would  utter  nothing  that  should  give  offence.  Then 
he  spoke  as  follows :  "  I  am  come  to  this  place  to  finish 
my  course,  and  to  pass  out  of  this  miserable  life ;  and  I 
beg  of  my  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  in  whose  most  precious 
Passion  and  Blood  I  place  my  hope  of  salvation,  that 
He  would  have  mercy  on  my  soul.  I  confess  I  am  a 
Catholic  priest  of  the  holy  Roman  Church,  and  a  reli- 
gious man  of  the  Society  of  Jesus ;  on  which  account  I 
owe  eternal  thanks  and  praises  to  my  God  and  Saviour." 
Here  he  was  interrupted  by  a  minister  telling  him,  that 
if  he  understood  what  he  had  said  in  the  sense  of  the 
Council  of  Trent,  it  was  damnable  doctrine.  But  the 
minister  was  silenc'd  by  the  standers  by,  and  Mr.  South- 
well went  on  saying,  "  Sir,  I  beg  of  you  not  to  be  trou- 
blesome to  me  for  this  short  time  that  I  have  to  live :  I 
am  a  Catholic,  and  in  whatever  manner  you  may  please 
to  interpret  my  words,  I  hope  for  salvation  by  the  merits 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  And  as  to  the  Queen,  I  never 
attempted,  nor  contrived,  or  imagined  any  evil  against 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 


lix 


her ;  but  have  always  prayed  for  her  to  our  Lord ;  and 
for  this  short  time  of  my  life  still  pray,  that,  in  His  in- 
finite mercy.  He  would  be  pleased  to  give  her  all  such 
gifts  and  graces  which  He  sees,  in  His  divine  wisdom, 
to  be  most  expedient  for  the  welfare,  both  of  her  soul 
and  body,  in  this  hfe  and  in  the  next.  I  recommend, 
in  like  manner,  to  the  same  mercy  of  God,  my  poor 
country,  and  I  implore  the  divine  bounty  to  favour  it 
with  His  hght,  and  the  knowledge  of  His  truth,  to  the 
greater  advancement  of  the  salvation  of  souls,  and  the 
eternal  glory  of  His  divine  majesty.  In  fine,  I  beg  of 
the  almighty  and  everlasting  God,  that  this  my  death 
may  be  for  my  own  and  for  my  country's  good,  and  the 
comfort  of  the  Catholics  my  brethren." 

'  Having  finished  these  words,  and  looking  for  the 
cart  to  be  immediately  drove  away,  he  again  blessed 
himself,  and,  with  his  eyes  rais'd  up  to  heaven,  repeated, 
with  great  calmness  of  mind  and  countenance,  those 
words  of  the  Psalmist,  in  manus  tuas,  &c.,  "  into  Thy 
hands,  0  Lord,  I  commend  my  spirit,"  with  other  short 
ejaculations,  till  the  cart  was  drawn  off.  The  unskilful 
hangman  had  not  apply'd  the  noose  of  the  rope  to  the 
proper  place,  so  that  he  several  times  made  the  sign  of 
the  Cross  whilst  he  was  hanging,  and  was  some  time 
before  he  was  strangled ;  which  some  perceiving,  drew 
him  by  the  legs  to  put  an  end  to  his  pain ;  and  when 
the  executioner  was  for  cutting  the  rope,  before  he  was 
dead,  the  gentlemen  and  people  that  were  present  cried 
out  three  several  times,  "  Hold,  hold  !"  for  the  behaviour 
of  the  servant  of  God  was  so  edifying  in  these  his  last 
moments,  that  even  the  Protestants  who  were  present 
at  the  execution  were  much  affected  with  the  sight. 


Ix  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

After  he  was  dead  he  was  cut  down,  bowelled,  and  quar- 
tered.' 1 

It  is  added  by  Turnbull  :  '  Lord  Mountjoy  (Charles 
Blount,  eighth  Baron  Mountjoy),  who  happened  to  be 
present,  was  so  struck  by  the  martyr's  constancy,  that  he 
exclaimed,  "  May  my  soul  be  with  this  man's  !"  and  he 
assisted  in  restraining  those  who  would  have  cut  the  rope 
while  he  was  still  in  life'  (pp.  xxxi.-ii.). 

Now  comes  the  St.  Omer's  ms.  : 

'  After  Father  Southwell  had  been  kept  close  pri- 
soner for  three  years  in  the  Tower,  he  sent  an  epistle  to 
Cecil,  Lord  Treasurer,  humbly  entreating  his  lordship, 
that  he  might  either  be  brought  upon  his  trial,  to  ans- 
wer for  himself,  or  at  least,  that  his  friends  might  have 
leave  to  come  and  see  him.  The  Treasurer  answered, 
that  if  he  was  in  so  much  haste  to  be  hanged,  he  should 
quickly  have  his  desire.  Shortly  after  this,  orders  were 
given,  that  he  should  be  removed  from  the  Tower  to 
Newgate;  where  he  was  put  down  into  the  dungeon 
call'd  Limho,  and  there  kept  for  three  days. 

'  On  the  2 2d  of  Febrnary,  without  any  previous  warn- 
ing to  prepare  for  his  trial,  he  was  taken  out  of  his  dark 
lodging  and  hurried  to  Westminster,  to  hold  up  his 
hand  there  at  the  bar.  The  first  news  of  this  step  to- 
wards his  martyrdom  fill'd  his  heart  with  a  joy  which 
he  could  not  conceal.  The  judges  before  whom  he  was 
to  appear  were  Lord  Chief  Justice  Popham,  Justice 
Owen,  Baron  Evans,  and  Sergeant  Daniel.  As  soon  as 
Father  Southwell  was  brought  in,  the  Lord  Chief  Jus- 
tice made  a  long  and  vehement  speech  against  the  Jesuits 
'  Challoncr,  pp.  825-27. 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 


Ixi 


and  seminary  priests,  as  the  authors  and  contrivers  of  all 
the  plots  and  treasons  which  he  pretended  had  been 
hatched  during  that  reign.  Then  was  read  the  bill  of 
indictment  against  Father  Southwell,  drawn  up  by  Cook, 
the  Queen's  solicitor,  to  this  effect : 

"  Middlesex. 

"  The  jury  present  on  the  part  of  our  sovereign  lady 
the  Queen,  that  Robert  Southwell,  late  of  London,  clerk, 
born  within  this  kingdom  of  England ;  to  wit,  since  the 
Feast  of  St.  John  Baptist,  in  the  first  year  of  the  reign 
of  her  Majesty;  and  before  the  1st  day  of  May,  in  the 
thirty-second  year  of  the  reign  of  our  lady  the  Queen 
aforesaid,  made  and  ordained  priest  by  authority  derived 
and  pretended  from  the  See  of  Eome ;  not  having  the 
fear  of  God  before  his  eyes,  and  slightmg  the  laws  and 
statutes  of  this  realm  of  England,  without  any  regard  to 
the  penalty  therein  contained,  on  the  20th  day  of  June, 
the  thirty-fourth  year  of  the  reign  of  our  lady  the  Queen, 
at  Uxenden,  in  the  county  of  Middlesex,  traiterously, 
and  as  a  false  traitor  to  our  said  lady  the  Queen,  was 
and  remained,  contrary  to  the  form  of  the  statute  in 
such  case  set  forth  and  provided,  and  contrary  to  the 
peace  of  our  said  lady  the  Queen,  her  crown  and  dig- 
nities." 

'  The  grand  jury  having  found  the  bill.  Father  South- 
well was  ordered  to  come  up  to  the  bar:  he  readily 
obeyed,  and  bowing  down  his  head,  made  a  low  rever- 
ence to  his  judges ;  then  modestly  held  up  his  hand  ac- 
cording to  custom;  and  being  ask'd,  whether  he  was 
guilty,  or  not  guilty  1  he  answered :  I  confess  that  I  was 
born  in  England,  a  subject  to  the  Queen's  majesty ;  and 


Ixii  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

that  by  authority  derived  from  God,  I  have  been  pro- 
moted to  the  sacred  order  of  priesthood  in  the  Roman 
Church  ;  for  which  I  return  most  hearty  thanks  to  His 
divine  Majesty.  I  confess  also,  that  I  was  at  Uxenden 
in  Middlesex  at  that  time ;  when,  being  sent  for  thither 
by  trick  and  deceit,  I  fell  into  your  hands,  as  it  is  well 
known  :  but  that  I  never  entertained  any  designs  or 
plots  against  the  Queen  or  kingdom,  I  call  God  to  wit- 
ness, the  revenger  of  perjury ;  neither  had  I  any  other 
design  in  returning  home  to  my  native  country,  than  to 
administer  the  sacraments,  according  to  the  rite  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  to  such  as  desired  them. 

'  Here  the  judge  interrupted  him,  and  told  him  that 
he  was  to  let  all  that  alone,  and  plead  directly  guilty,  or 
not  guilty.  Upon  which  he  said,  he  was  not  guilty  of 
any  treason  whatsoever.  And  being  asked  by  whom  he 
would  be  tried  ?  he  said,  By  God  and  by  you.  The  judge 
told  him  he  was  to  answer.  By  God  and  his  country  ; 
which,  at  first,  he  refused,  alledging  that  the  laws  of 
his  country  were  disagreeable  to  the  law  of  God ;  and 
that  he  was  unwilling  those  poor  harmless  men  of  the 
jury,  whom  they  obliged  to  represent  the  country,  should 
have  any  share  in  their  guilt,  or  any  hand  in  his  death. 
But,  said  he,  if  thro'  your  iniquity  it  must  be  so,  and  I 
cannot  help  it,  be  it  as  you  will,  I  am  ready  to  be  judged 
by  God  and  my  country.  When  the  twelve  were  to  be 
sworn,  he  challenged  none  of  them,  saying,  that  they 
were  all  equally  strangers  to  him,  and  therefore  charity 
did  not  allow  him  to  except  against  any  one  of  them 
more  than  another. 

'  The  jury  being  sworn,  Mr.  Cook  began  to  prove 
the  heads  of  the  indictment,  that  Mr.  Southwell  was  an 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  Ixiii 

Englishman,  and  a  priest,  by  his  own  confession;  and 
that  his  being  so  young  was  a  demonstration  that  he 
was  made  priest  since  the  time  mentioned  in  the  statute, 
&c.     The  judge  ask'd  him  how  old  he  was  ?  He  replied, 
that  he  was  about  the  same  age  as  our  Saviour,  viz.  33. 
Topliffe,  who  was  present,  took  occasion  from  this  ans- 
wer to  charge  him  with  insupportable  pride,  in  com- 
paring himself  to  our  Saviour.     But  Father  Southwell 
refuted  the  calumny,  confessing  himself  to  be  a  worm 
of  the  earth,  and  the  work  and  creature  of  Christ  his 
Maker.     In  fine,  after  Mr.  Cook  had  declaim'd,  as  long 
as  he  thought  fit,  against  the  servant  of  Christ,  and 
Topliffe   and  Lord  Chief  Justice  Popham  had  loaded 
him   with    reproaches   and   injuries,   to   which    Father 
Southwell  opposed  a  Christian  constancy  and  modesty, 
the  jury  went  aside  to  consult  about  the  verdict,  and,  a 
short  time  after,  brought  him  in  guilty.     He  was  asked, 
if  he  had  any  thing  more  to  say  for  himself,  why  sent- 
ence should  not  be  pronounced  against  him  ?     He  said, 
nothing ;  but  from  my  heart  I  beg  of  Almighty  God  to 
forgive   all  who  have  been  any  ways  accessory  to  my 
death.     The  judge  (Popham)  exhorted  him  to  provide 
for  the   welfare  of  his   soul  whilst  he  had  time.     He 
thank'd  him  for  this  show  of  good-will ;  saying,  that  he 
had  long  since  provided  for  that,  and  was  conscious  to 
himself  of  his  own  innocence.     The  judge  having  pro- 
nounced sentence  according  to  the  usual  form.  Father 
Southwell  made  a  very  low  bow,  returning  him  most 
hearty  thanks,  as  for  an  unspeakable  favour.    The  judge 
offered  him  the  help  of  a  minister  to  prepare  him  to  die. 
Father  Southwell  desired  he  would  not  trouble  him  upon 
that  head  ;  that  the  grace  of  God  would  be  more  than 


Ixiv  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

sufficient  for  him.  And  so,  being  sent  back  to  Newgate, 
thro'  the  streets,  lined  with  people,  he  discovered,  all  the 
way,  the  overflowing  joy  of  his  heart,  in  his  eyes,  in  his 
whole  countenance,  and  in  every  gesture  and  motion  of 
his  body.  He  was  again  put  down  into  Limbo,  at  his 
return  to  Newgate,  where  he  spent  the  following  night, 
the  last  of  his  life,  in  prayer,  full  of  the  thoughts  of  the 
journey  he  was  to  take  the  next  day,  thro'  the  gate  of 
martyrdom,  into  a  happy  eternity ;  to  enjoy  for  ever  the 
sovereign  Object  of  his  love.  The  next  morning  early, 
he  was  called  out  to  the  combat,  and,  as  we  have  seen 
above,  gained  a  glorious  victory. 

'  Mr.  Southwell's  execution  is  mentioned  by  Mr. 
Stow  in  his  Chronicle :  "February  20  (1594-5),  says 
the  historian,  Southwell,  a  Jesuit,  that  long  time  had 
lain  prisoner  in  the  Tower  of  London,  was  arraigned  at 
the  King's-Bench  bar.  He  was  condemned,  and  on  the 
next  morning  drawn  from  Newgate  to  Tyburn,  and  there 
hanged,  bowelled,  and  quartered. 'i 

It  is  very  pitiful  to  have  the  great  name  of  Coke — 
for  the  '  Cook'  of  the  Manuscript  was  he — thus  intro- 
duced. Anything  more  relentless  and  ingeniously  and 
wickedly  perverse  than  the  *  meaning'  put  into  South- 
well's allusion  to  the  age  of  The  Lord  as  (nearly) 
equal  to  his  own  is  inconceivable.  To  me  it  is  an  in- 
finitely touching  and  unconscious  revelation  of  how  his 
whole  soul  was  filled  with  thoughts  of  the  supreme  Life, 
so  that,  as  perfume  from  a  wind-shaken  flower,  the 
Christ-linked  remembrance  of  his  age  could  not  but  be 
uttered. 

1  Challoner,  pp.  330-34. 


MEMORIAL-IXTRODUCTIOX,  Jxv 

From  Morris's  '  Condition  of  the  Catholics'  (as  be- 
fore) we  learn  that  there  were  '  conversations'  on  '  equi- 
vocation' and  kindred  matters  during  the  examinations, 
and  that  one  '  in  authority'  sought  to  break  down  the 
'  firmness'  of  another  Catholic  prisoner  by  a  false  as 
malignant  assertion  that  Southwell  had  '  conformed'  and 
sent  for  a  Protestant  'minister.'^  I  care  not  to  dwell 
any  longer  on  this  judicial  Murder.  I  pronounce  it  to 
be  such ;  and  it  is  the  sorrow  and  shame  of  our  com- 
mon human  nature  and  Christianity  that  '  both  sides' 
have  like  blood- wet  pages.  I  must  regard  our  Worthy 
as  a  'martyr'  in  the  deepest  and  grandest  sense  — a 
*  good  man  and   full   of  the   Holy  Ghost.'"      I  should 

'  As  before,  pp.  cexiv.  ccxviii.  and  Ixvii. 

2  I  add  the  following  as  a  foot-note,  from  the  Transactions 
of  the  London  and  Middlesex  Archaeological  Society  (vol.  i.  pp. 
293-4) :  '  Robert  Southwell,  y^  Jesuit  priest,  was  also  discovered 
and  arrested  at  Uxenden,  and  it  was  admitted  by  him  that  he 
had  been  often  in  Bellamy's  house ;  and  his  friend  John  Gerard, 
another  Jesuit,  defended  y«  denial  of  y^  fact  by  one  of  y^  wit- 
nesses, as  being  a  denial  authorised  by  y^  example  of  y^  Saviour.' 

In  June  1592  it  was  ordered,  '  That  Mr.  Justice  Young,  or 
sume  other  lyke  commissioner,  do  apprehend  Richard  Bellamy 
of  Oxenden,  in  y^  parryshe  of  Harrow  on  y''  Hyll,  and  his 
wyfFe,  and  the  tow  sonnes  and  ther  tow  daughters,  in  whose 
house  father  Southwell,  alias  Mr.  Cotton,  was  taken  by  Mr. 
Toplay  [Topcliflfe?]  a  comyssyner,  andwher  a  noumber  of  other 
preests  have  bene  recevyd  and  harberd,  as  well  when  Southwell 
bathe  been  ther  as  when  Mr.  Barnes,  alias  Stranudge,  al's  Hyud, 
al's  Wingfeld,  bathe  beene  ther  a  sojorner  in  Bellamy's  house. 
And  they  to  bee  comytted  to  severall  prysons :  Bellamy  and  his 
wj'fe  to  y^  Gaythouse,  and  ther  tow  doughters  to  y^  Clynck,  and 
ther  tow  soones  to  St.  Katheryn's,  and  to  be  axamyned  straytly 
for  y«  weighty  service  of  y^  Q^  Ma*y.'  The  '  alias  Cotton'  is  a  new 
fact  in  Southwell's  biogi-aphy.  Turnbull  has  given  a  genea- 
logical table  of  the  Bellamys,  and  related  papers  from  the  State- 
Paper  Office  fpp.  Ixiv.-vi.) :  sufficient  to  have  been  once  printed. 


Ixvi  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

blush  for  my  Protestantism,  if  I  did  not  hold  in  honour, 
yea  reverence,  his  stainless  and  beautiful  memory,  all 
the  more  that  he  was  on  the  '  losing  side,'  none  the  less 
that  beliefs  and  forms  and  observances  that  were  dear  to 
him  are  errors,  and  more,  to  me : 

Through  this  desert,  day  by  day, 
Wandered  not  his  steps  astray, 
Treading  still  the  royal  way. 

Paradiaus  Animce. 

Pass  we  now  to 

II.  The  Wiutinos. 

It  is  to  be  lamented  that  there  is  no  authentic  por- 
trait of  Southwell  known.  Dr.  Hannah  of  Brighton  in- 
deed has  sent  me  an  early  etching-like  engraving,  which, 
from  the  number  '  89'  in  the  right-hand  corner,  seems 
to  have  formed  one  of  a  series.  Beneath  is  inscribed 
'  P.  Kobertvs  Sovthvell,  Soc.  lesu,  Londini,  pro  Cath. 
fide  suspensus  et  sectus  3.  mar.  1595'  (the  date  erro- 
neous). Above  is  a  cherub  reaching  out  a  wreath  and 
palm :  round  the  neck  is  '  the  rope,'  and  in  the  breast  a 
sword  with  blood  coming  forth  in  great  drops.  The  face 
is  a  conventional  monkish  one,  self- evidently  no  Portrait. 
We  could  better  have  spared  other  portraits  that  have 
come  down  for  his.  I  very  much  mistake  if  a  genuine 
Portrait  of  him  would  not  have  shown  an  intellectual, 
etherealised  Face,  thin  and  worn  no  doubt,  but  ensouled. 
One  likes  to  go  to  the  Writings  of  a  man  from  a  study 
of  his  Face.  This  we  are  not  privileged  to  do  here ;  but 
I  have  told  his  Life-story  ill  from  the  extant  authorities, 
if  my  Eeaders  have  not  a  'j:)re;'wf72ce'  in  his  favour — 
using  my  Scottish  archaic  phrase — if  his  character  have 


MEM0R1AL-INTK(JDUC'TI0N/  Ixvii 

not  won  an  extrinsic  interest  and  transfiguration  for  his 
books.  His  Prose  I  can  only  very  briefly  notice ;  nor 
indeed  is  it  their  literary  value  that  has  kept  them 
'quick'  and  potential  to  this  day.  It  was  not  for  a 
literary  object  they  were  composed,  neither  as  contri- 
buting to  literature  they  were  published.  They  were 
the  outcome  of  the  Author's  own  '  inner  life'  and  sym- 
pathies with  the  sad,  the  unwary,  the  eager,  the  tempted, 
the  doubting,  the  '  tried.'  Hence  it  is,  I  take  it,  that 
there  never  has  been  a  decade  of  years  since  their  ori- 
ginal issue,  that  something  bearing  the  name  of  South- 
well has  not  been  in  living  circulation  and  prized  by 
'  weary'  and  sorrowful  spirits. 

The  Bibliographies  (e.  g.  Hazlitt's)  place  at  the  head 
of  his  Writings  '  A  Supplication  to  Queen  Elizabeth' 
(1593):  but  this  was  probably  his  father's  Petition.  I 
have  failed  to  discover  a  copy.    The  next— really  the  first 

is  '  An  Epistle  of  Comfort  to  the  Eeverend  Preistes, 

and  to  the  honourable,  worshipful,  and  other  of  the  lay 
sorte  restrayned  in  durance  for  the  Catholike  faith.  Im- 
printed at  Paris  [15931],'  8vo,  214  leaves:  a  copy  in 
the  British  Museum.  Following  this  was  '  A  Short 
Rule  of  Good  Life:  to  direct  the  devout  Christian  in  a 
regular  and  ordinary  course,  n.p.  or  d.  8vo:  a  copy  in 
the  Bodleian.  Dr.  Oliver  (as  before)  has  stated  that 
these  were  all  '  printed  at  his  private  press,'  mentioned 
in  our  Memoir.  But  in  such  case  the  date  of  the  '  Epistle 
of  Comfort'  usually  filled  in,  viz.  1593,  must  be  a  mis- 
take, as  Southwell  from  1592  was  a  '  prisoner.'  The 
imprint  of  Paris  may  have  been  a  blind.  Another  edi- 
tion of  this  treatise— for  it  really  is  such— bears  date 
'1G05'  (in  the  Bodleian).    Dodd  (as  before)  gives  the 


Ixviii  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

imprint  of  Doway  to  the  '  Short  Rule.'  His  '  Epistle 
to  his  Father  to  forsake  the  World'  is  also  assigned  to 
the  '  private  press,'  and  so  must  have  been  printed  prior 
to  1592.  I  have  not  been  able  to  trace  an  early  copy. 
As  we  shall  find,  the  Stonyhurst  ms.  copy  of  it  is  dated 
1589.  The  next  published  prose  was  the  following: 
'  The  Triimiphs  ouer  Death  :  or  A  Consolatorie  Epistle 
for  afflicted  minds,  in  the  affects  of  dying  friends.  First 
written  for  the  consolation  of  one :  but  nowe  published  for 
the  generall  good  of  all,  hj  R.  S.  the  Authour  of  S.Peters 
ComjAaint,  and  Mceoniw  his  other  Hijmnes.  London, 
Printed  by  Valentine  Simmes  for  lohn  Busbie,  and  are  to 
be  solde  at  Nicholas  Lings  shop  at  the  West  end  of 
Paules  Church.  1596.  (4to).'  By  the  hberality  of  the 
authorities  of  Jesus  College,  Oxford,  I  have  been  allowed 
the  leisurely  use  of  their  very  fine  copy  of  this  excessively 
scarce  book.     There  was  a  previous  edition  in  1595. 

John  Trussell,  author  of  '  Raptvs  I  Helente.  The 
first  Rape  of  faire  Hellen.  Done  into  a  Poeme  by  I.  T.' 
(1595),  appears  to  have  been  Editor  of  the  'Triumphs.' 
The  Epistle-dedicatory  in  verse  to  the  Sackvilles  we 
have  already  given  in  the  preceding  Memoir,  and  now 
the  Verses  in  memoriam  of  Southwell  by  Trussell 
must  here  find  successive  place ;  the  former  an  acrostic, 
and  neither,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  hitherto  reprinted. 

I.  [Of  Southwell  and  his  Book.] 

R  Reade  with  regarde,  what  here  with  due  regarde, 

O  Our  second  Ciceronian  Southwell  sent : 

B  By  whose  perswasiue  pithy  argument, 

E  Ech  well  disposed  eie  may  he  preparde 

R  Respectiuely  their  gi-iefe  for  friends  decease 

T  To  moderate  without  all  vaine  excesse. 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  Ixix 

S     Sitli  the  woi'ke  is  worthie  of  your  view, 
O    Obtract  not  him  which  foi"  your  good  it  pend : 
V    Vnkinde  you  are  if  you  it  reprehend, 
T     That  for  jonr  profit  it  presented  you : 
H    He  pend,  I  publish  this  to  pleasiu-e  all, 
E     Esteeme  of  both  then,  as  we  merite  shall. 
W   Way  his  workes  woorth,  accept  of  my  goodwill, 
E     Else  is  his  labour  lost,  mine  crost,  both  to  no  end : 
L     Lest  then  you  ill  deserue  what  both  intend, 
L     Let  my  goodwill  and  small  defects  fulfill : 
He  here  his  talent  trebled  doth  present, 
I,  my  poore  mite,  yet  both  with  good  intent ;    • 
Then  take  them  kindly  both,  as  we  them  ment. 


II.  To  THE  Readek. 

Chancing  to  find  with  ^sope's  cocke  a  stone, 

Whose  worth  was  more  than  I  knew  how  to  prize ; 
And  knowing  if  it  should  be  kept  vnknowne, 
'Twould  many  skathe,  and  pleasure  few  or  none  : 
I  thought  it  best,  the  same  in  publike  wise 
I['d]  print  to  publish,  that  impartiall  eyes 
Might,  reading  iudge,  and  iudging,  praise  the  wight 
The  which  this  Triumph  ouer  Death  did  wi'ite. 

And  though  the  same  he  did  at  first  compose 

For  one's  peculiar  consolation, 
Yet  will  it  be  commodious  vnto  those. 
Which  for  some  friend's  losse,proue  their  owne  selfe-foes: 

And  by  extreamitie  of  exclamation 

And  theii-  continuale  lamentation 
Seeme  to  forget  that  they  at  length  must  tread 
The  selfe  same  path  which  they  did  that  are  dead. 

But  those  as  yet  whom  no  friend's  death  doth  crosse, 

May  by  example  guyde  their  actions  so, 
That  when  a  tempest  comes  their  barke  to  tosse, 
Then-  passions  shall  not  superate  theii*  losse : 
And  eke  this  Treatise  doth  the  Reader  show, 
That  we  our  breath  to  Death  by  duety  owe, 
And  thereby  pi-ooues,  much  teares  are  spent  in  vaine, 
WTien  teares  can  not  recall  the  dead  againe. 


IXX  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

Yet  if  2)erhapi)es  our  late  sprung  Sectaries, 

Or,  for  a  fashion,  Bible-bearing  hypocrites, 
Whose  hoUowe  hearts  doe  seeme  most  holy  wise, 
Do,  for  the  Author's  sake,  the  worke  desinse, 

I  wish  them  weigh  the  worke,  and  not  who  writes : 
But  they  that  leaue  what  most  the  soiile  delights, 
Because  the  Preacher's  no  precisian,  sure 
To  reade  what  Soutkwi'll  writ  will  not  endure. 

But  leaning  them,  since  no  perswades  suffise 
To  cause  them  reade,  except  the  Spirit  moue, 

I  wish  all  other  reade,  but  not  despise 

This  little  Treatise :  but  if  Momus'  eies 

Espie  Death's  Triumph,  it  doth  him  behoue. 
This  Writer,  Worke,  or  me  for  to  reprooue  : 

But  let  this  pitch-speecht  mouth  defile  but  one. 

Let  that  be  me,  let  t'  other  two  alone : 
For  if  ofience  in  either  merite  blame, 
The  fault  is  mine,  and  let  me  reape  the  shame. 

loHN  Teussell. 

Southwell's  own  prose  address  of  '  The  Aiithour  to 
the  Reader'  is  well-turned  in  phrase.  A  copy  of  the  '  Tri- 
umphs,' including  this  Epistle,  corrected  in  his  own  auto- 
graph, is  preserved  among  the  Stonyhurst  mss.,  dated 
'  The  last  of  September  1591.'  In  any  reprint  this  Manu- 
script will  be  found  of  much  value.  The  date  there  given 
(1591)  led  us  to  place  the  'Triumphs'  before  'Marie 
Magdalen's  Funerall  Teares,'  although  the  latter  was  in 
print  one  year  earlier.  This  was  his  last  published  prose. 
The  title-page  is  as  follows — taken  from  the  unique  copy 
in  the  Bodleian :  *  Mary  Magdalen's  Funerall  Teares. 
Jeremiee,  c.  6,  ver.  2G.  Auctum  unigeniti  fac  tibi  plane- 
turn  amartim.  London,  Printed  for  A.  I.  G.  C.  1594' 
(8vo,  47  leaves).  There  were  editions  of  the  '  Funerall 
Teares'  in  1602,  1607,  1609,  1630,  &c.  &c. 

Such  were  the  printed  and  published  Prose  Writings 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  Ixxi 

of  our  Poet.  Farther  :  Dolman,  the  late  Catholic  pub- 
lisher, is  stated  by  Tuunbull  to  have  had  in  his  posses- 
sion an  unpublished  (and  still  so)  ms.  of  his,  entitled 'The 
Hundred  Meditations  of  the  Love  of  God,'  with  a  Pre- 
face-Letter '  To  the  Right  Honble  and  virtuous  Lady, 
the  Lady  Beauchamp.'  It  must  be  the  same  that  is  quoted 
from  by  Walter.  Besides  these  '  Hundred  Meditations' 
among  the  Stonyhurst  mss.,  exclusive  of  holographs  of 
the  already-named  '  Triumphs  over  Death'  and  Epistle 
to  his  '  loving  cosen,'  prefixed  to  St.  Peter's  Complaint, 
with  other  Poems  (as  before),  and  of  the  Letter  to  his 
Father,  and  of  the  Poems,  there  are  a  variety  of  exceed- 
ingly characteristic  '  weighty  and  powerful'  productions, 
chiefly  in  Latin,  and  which  I  would  here  record.  But 
with  reference  to  the  Letter  to  his  Father  it  may  be  stated 
that  it  thus  begins  in  the  ms.  :  '  To  the  Worshipfull,  his 
very  good  father,  Mr.  Rich.  Sou.  Esq",  his  dutifuU  soon 
[^sic']  Rob.  Sou.  wisheth  all  happines ;'  and  ends,  *  may 
finde  excuse  of  my  boldnes,  I  will  surcease.  This  22  of 
October  1589,  your  most  dutifull  and  lovinge  sonne,  R.  S.' 
The  date  '1589'  is  important,  and  confirms  our  remark, 
that  if  printed  at  the  '  private  press'  in  his  own  house,  it 
must  have  appeared  sooner  than  the  known  earliest  edi- 
tion, viz.  1593.  The  whole  of  these  are  included  in  the 
same  Volume  with  the  Poems,  as  described  by  us. 

The  additional  autograph  pieces  in  Prose  are  on 
separate  foldings  of  paper,  and  are  these  :  '  Notes  on 
Theology,'  consisting  of  the  usual  scholastic-dogmatic 
discussions  (in  Latin).  Next,  '  Precationes,'  as  follow  : 
'  Ante  orationem  precatio,'  'Ante  Missam  precatio,'  '  Ante 
studia  precatio,'  'Ad  omnia  accommodata  precatio,'  'An- 
tequam  cum  externis  &c.,'  and  two  others  without  head- 


Ixxii  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

ings.  Next, '  Meditationes  in  Adventu' — both  the  Pi*ayers 
and  Meditations  being  in  Latin.  Next,  a  '  Discourse  on 
Mary  Mandelyn,'  and  'Alas,  why  doe  I  lament,'  in  Eng- 
lish prose,  both  extrinsically  valuable  from  their  relation 
to  the  published  'Mary  Magdalen's  Funerall  Teares,'  of 
which  indeed  I  believe  them  to  have  been  the  first  form. 
Finally,  another  Prayer  on  a  separate  bit  of  paper,  and 
Notes  or  jottings  for  the  poem  of  St.  Peter's  Complaint. 

Returning  upon  the  Prose  of  Southwell,  as  thus 
for  the  first  time  fully  and  accurately  placed  before  the 
Reader,  I  feel  a  difficulty  in  making  representative  quota- 
tions, seeing — as  remarked  in  the  outset — it  is  not  for 
their  literary  but  for  their  '  spiritual'  worth  we  estimate 
them  highly:  while  there  is  this  additional  element  of 
difficulty,  that  the  great  body  of  the  instruction  and  con- 
solation presented  is  plain,  simple,  unadorned,  almost 
homely,  and  so  unfurnished  of  those  brilliancies  that  yield 
vivid  and  often  untrue  '  quotable  bits.'' 

Nevertheless,  it  were  probably  to  disappoint  not  to 
give  something  from  the  Prose — published  and  unpub- 
lished. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  earliest-dated  prose  of  our 
Worthy  is  the  Letter  to  his  Father.  This  Letter  is 
printed  in  extenso  by  Walter  (as  before),  and  from  him 
as  Appendix  No.  1  by  Turnbull.  We  have  very  much 
more  valuable  new  materials,  and  hence  have  not  thought 
of  reprinting  it ;  but  it  is  of  rare  interest  in  many  ways, 
and  won  the  fine  praise  of  Arts  Willmott.  His  father 
seems  either  to  have  been  inclined  to  fall  in  with  The  Re- 
formation, being  at  least  an  absentee  from  Catholic  ob- 
servances, or  to  have  been  '  gay'  and  '  of  the  world.'  His 
marriage  with  a  lady  of  the  Court — formerly,  we  learn 


MEMORIAL- INTRODUCTION.  Ixxiii 

from  More  (as  before),  the  instructress  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth in  the  Latin  language — and  his  wealth  led  him 
among  the  highest  in  the  Land.  His  son  Robert 
yearned  over  him.  Thus  does  he  pave  the  way  for  counsel 
and  admonition  :^  '  I  am  not  of  so  unnatural  a  kind,  of 
so  wild  an  education,  or  so  unchristian  a  spirit,  as  not  to 
remember  the  root  out  of  which  I  branched,  or  to  forget 
my  secondary  maker  and  author  of  my  being.  It  is  not 
the  carelessness  of  a  cold  affection,  nor  the  want  of  a  due 
and  reverent  respect,  that  has  made  me  such  a  stranger 
to  my  native  home,  and  so  backward  in  defraying  the 
debt  of  a  thankful  mind,  but  only  the  iniquity  of  these 
days  that  maketh  my  presence  perilous,  and  the  discharge 
of  my  duties  an  occasion  of  danger.  I  was  loth  to  inforce 
an  unwilling  courtesy  upon  any,  or  by  seeming  offici- 
ous to  become  offensive ;  deeming  it  better  to  let  time 
digest  the  fear  that  my  return  into  the  realm  had  bred  in 
my  kindred  than  abruptly  to  intrude  myself,  and  to  pur- 
chase their  danger,  whose  good-will  I  so  highly  esteem. 
I  never  doubted  but  that  the  belief,  which  to  all  my 
friends  by  descent  and  pedigree  is,  in  a  manner,  heredi- 
tary, framed  in  them  a  right  persuasion  of  my  present 
calling,  not  suffering  them  to  measure  their  censures  of 
me  by  the  ugly  terms  and  odious  epithets  wherewith 
heresy  hath  sought  to  discredit  my  functions,  but  rather 
by  the  reverence  of  so  worthy  a  sacrament  and  the  sacred 
usages  of  all  former  ages.  Yet,  because  I  might  easily 
perceive  by  apparent  conjectures  that  many  were  more 

'  As  most  easily  got  at  by  Readers  desh-ing  to  see  the  whole, 
I  take  my  quotations  from  this  Letter  fromTuRNBULL,  w-ithout 
ill  tins  instance  going  back  on  the  old  spelling.  In  Waltek  it 
occupies  pp.  106-125,  and  was  taken  from  a  ms.  in  the  Bodleian. 

/i" 


Ixxiv  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

willing  to  hear  of  me  than  from  me,  and  readier  to  praise 
than  to  use  my  endeavours,  I  have  hitherto  bridled  my 
desire  to  see  them  by  the  care  and  jealousy  of  their  safety ; 
and  banishing  myself  from  the  scene  of  my  cradle  in  my 
own  country,  I  have  lived  like  a  foreigner,  finding  among 
strangers  that  which,  in  my  nearest  blood,  I  presumed 
not  to  seek'  (pp.  xliii.-iv.).     Then  follow  most  wistful 
and  anxious  arguments  taking  the  form  of  entreaties:  e.g. 
'  Surely  for  mine  own  part,  though  I  challenge  not  the 
prerogative  of  the  best  disposition,  yet  am  I  not  of  so 
harsh  and  churlish  a  humour,  but  that  it  is  a  continual 
corrective  and  cross  unto  me,  that  whereas  my  endea- 
vours have  reclaimed  many  from  the  brink  of  perdition, 
I  have  been  less  able  to  employ  them  where  they  were 
most  due ;  and  was  barred  from  affording  to  my  dearest 
friends  that  which  hath  been  eagerly  sought  and  bene- 
ficially obtained  by  mere  strangers'  (p.  xlvi.).   More  pas- 
sionately :  '  Who  hath  more  interest  in  the  grape  than  he 
who  planted  the  vine  ?  who  more  right  to  the  crop  than 
he  who  sowed  the  corn  1  or  where  can  the  child  owe  so 
great  service  as  to  him  to  whom  he  is  indebted  for  his 
very  life  and  being  %     With  young  Tobias  I  have  tra- 
velled far,  and  brought  home  a  freight  of  spiritual  sub- 
stance to  enrich  you,  and  medicinable  receipts  against 
your  ghostly  maladies.    I  have  with  Esau,  after  long  toil 
in  pursuing  a  long  and  painful  chase,  returned  with  the 
full  prey  you  were  wont  to  love ;  desiring  thereby  to  in- 
sure your  blessing.     I  have  in  this  general  famine  of 
all  true  and  Christian  food,  with  Joseph,  prepared  abund- 
ance of  the  bread  of  angels  for  the  repast  of  your  soul. 
And  now  my  desire  is  that  my  drugs  may  cure  you,  my 
prey  delight  you,  and  my  provisions  feed  you,  by  whom 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 


Ixxv 


I  have  been  cured,  enlightened,  and  fed  myself;  that 
your  courtesies  may,  in  part,  be  countervailed,  and  my 
duty,  in  some  sort,  performed.     Despise  not,  good  Sire, 
the  youth  of  your  son,  neither  deem  your  God  measureth 
His  endowments  by  number  of  years.     Hoary  senses  are 
often  couched  under  youthful  locks,  and  some  are  riper 
in  the   spring  than  others  in  the  autumn  of  their  age' 
(pp.  xlvi.-vii.).     That  'you  ivere  wont  to  love'  from  the 
old  Story  was  exceedingly  ingenious  and  is  ingenuously 
put.     There  follow  superabundant  Scriptural  defences  of 
his  *  youth'  as  no  bar  to  addressing  his  Father,  neither 
his  subordination  as  '  son'  an  argument  for  silence,  nor 
'  counsels'  an  accusation,  as  though  his  father  were  unin- 
structed  in  such  matters.     Again,  very  finely :  '  The  full 
of  your  spring-tide  is  now  fallen,  and  the  stream  of  your 
hfe  waneth  to  a  low  ebb ;  your  tired  bark  beginneth  to 
leak,  and  grateth  oft  upon  the  gravel  of  the  grave  ;  there- 
fore it  is  high  time  for  you  to  strike  sail  and  put  into 
harbour,  lest,  remaining  in  the  scope  of  the  winds  and 
waves  of  this  wicked  time,  some  unexpected  gust  should 
dash  you  upon  the  rock  of  eternal  ruin'   (p.  lix.).    And 
so  the  '  sharp  arrow'  is  at  last  sent  home.     '  Now  there- 
fore, to  join  issue  and  to  come  to  the  principal  drift  of 
my  discourse  :  most  humbly  and  earnestly  I  am  to  be- 
seech you,  that,  both  in  respect  of  the  honour  of  God, 
your  duty  to  His  Church,  the  comfort  of  your  children, 
and  the  redress  of  your  own  soul,  you  would  seriously 
consider  the  terms  you  stand  on,  and  weigh  yourself 
in  a  Christian  balance,  taking  for  your  counterpoise  the 
judgments  of  God.     Take  heed  in  time,  that  the  word 
Thekel,  written  of  old  against  Balthazar,  and  interpreted 
by  young  Daniel,  be  not  verified  in  you  ;  remember  the 


Ixxvi  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

exposition,  "  you  have  been  weighed  in  the  balance  and 
found  wanting."  Remember  that  you  are  in  the  balance, 
that  the  date  of  your  pilgrimage  is  well-nigh  expired,  and 
that  it  now  behoveth  you  to  look  forward  to  your  country. 
Your  strength  languisheth,  your  senses  become  impaired, 
and  your  body  droopeth,  and  on  every  side  the  ruinous 
cottage  of  your  faint  and  feeble  flesh  threateneth  a  fall. 
Having  so  many  harbingers  of  death  to  pre -admonish 
you  of  your  end,  how  can  you  but  prepare  for  so  dread- 
ful a  stranger  ?  The  young  may  die  quickly,  but  the 
old  cannot  live  long.  The  young  man's  Ufe  by  casualty 
may  be  abridged ;  but  the  old  man's  life  can  by  no  phy- 
sic be  long  augmented.  And  therefore,  if  green  years 
must  sometimes  think  of  the  grave,  the  thoughts  of  sere 
age  should  continually  dwell  on  the  same.  The  prero- 
gative of  infancy  is  innocency ;  of  childhood,  reverence ; 
of  manhood,  maturity  ;  and  of  age,  wisdom  ;  and  seeing 
that  the  chief  property  of  wisdom  is  to  be  mindful  of 
things  past,  careful  of  things  present,  and  provident  of 
things  to  come,  use  now  the  privilege  of  Nature's  talent 
to  the  benefit  of  your  soul,  and  show  hereafter  to  be  wise 
in  well-doing,  and  watchful  in  foresight  of  future  harms. 
To  serve  the  world  you  are  now  unable,  and  though  you 
were  able,  you  have  little  wish  to  do  so,  seeing  that  it 
never  gave  you  but  an  unhappy  welcome,  a  hurtful  enter- 
tainment, and  now  doth  abandon  you  with  an  unfortunate 
farewell.  You  have  long  sowed  in  a  field  of  flint,  which 
could  bring  you  nothing  forth  but  a  crop  of  cares  and 
afflictions  of  spirit ;  rewarding  your  labours  with  re- 
morse, and  for  your  pains  repaying  you  with  eternal 
damages.  It  is  now  more  than  a  seasonable  time  to  alter 
your  course  of  so  unthriving  a  husbandry,  and  to  enter 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  Ixxvii 

into  the  field  of  God's  Church'  (pp.  xlix.-li.).  The  se- 
quel is  intensely,  almost  awfully  in  earnest  in  its  calls  for 
recovery — 'return to Rk  Church' — and  to  'consider'  be-' 
fore  it  be  '  too  late ;'  and  he  urges :  '  I  have  expressed  not 
only  my  own,  but  the  earnest  desire  of  your  other  chil- 
dren, whose  humble  wishes  are  here  written  with  my  pen. 
For  it  is  a  general  grief  that  filleth  all  our  hearts,  whom 
it  hath  pleased  God  to  shroud  under  His  merciful  wing, 
to  see  our  dearest  father,  to  whom  both  nature  hath 
bound  and  your  merits  fastened  our  affection,  dismem- 
bered from  the  body  to  which  we  are  united,  to  be  in 
hazard  of  a  farther  and  more  grievous  separation'  (p.  Ix.). 

I  know  nothing  comparable  with  the  mingled  affec- 
tion and  prophet-like  fidelity,  the  wise  '  instruction,  correc- 
tion, reproof,'  the  full  rich  scripturahaess  and  quamt  ap- 
plications, the  devoutness,  the  insistence,  the  pathos  of 
this  Letter.  Even  the  noble  Letter  of  the  late  Bishop  of 
Exeter  (Phillpotts)  to  Lord  Chancellor  Eldox  on  his 
deathbed— the  gem  of  the  '  Life'  of  Eldon  by  Twiss — 
looks  chill  and  meagre  beside  it.  A  shorter  Letter  to 
his  Brother  (not  named),  similarly  preserved,  is  of  the 
same  character,  and  of  as  urgent  and  eager  intensity  for 
*  decision.'  Here  is  one  '  cry'  out  of  it :  'I  would  I 
might  send  you  the  sacrifice  of  my  dearest  veins,  to  try 
whether  nature  could  awake  remorse,  and  prepare  a  way 
for  grace's  entrance.'^ 

The  <  Triumphs  over  Death'  is  a  panegyric  on  the 
lady  of  the  family  of  the  Howards  noticed  in  the  Me- 
moir [Lady  Mary  Sackville].  It  seeks  to  check  over- 
grief,  and  in  so  doing  lacks  the  gentleness,  the  softness 

'  Walter,   as   before,  p.   127  :    Turnbull  from  Walter, 
p.  Ixiv. 


Ixxviii  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

of  his  other  Letters,  being  severe  to  sternness  in  its  re- 
pression. His  '  character'  of  the  '  fair  lady'  is  drawn  with 
the  firm  hnes  of  a  Painter  and  the  glow  of  a  Poet.  It 
may  serve  as  an  example  of  the  elegance  of  his  style,  and 
so  I  adduce  it  here  :  '  She  was  by  birth  second  to  none 
but  vnto  the  first  in  the  realme  ;  yet  she  measured  onely 
greatnesse  by  goodnes,  making  nobility  but  the  mirrour 
of  vertue,  as  able  to  shewe  things  worthie  to  be  scene,  as 
apte  to  draw  many  eies  to  beholde  it ;  shee  suted  her  be- 
hauior  to  her  birth,  and  enobled  her  birth  with  her  piety, 
leaning  her  house  more  beholding  to  her  for  hauing  hon- 
oured it  with  the  glorie  of  her  vertues,  then  she  was  to 
it  for  the  titles  of  hir  degree.  She  was  high-minded  in 
nothing  but  in  aspiring  to  perfection  and  in  the  disdaine 
of  vice ;  in  other  things  couering  her  greatnes  with  hu- 
militie  among  her  inferiors,  and  showing  it  with  curtesie 
among  hir  peeres.  Of  the  carriage  of  her  selfe,  and  her 
sober  gouernement  [it]  may  be  a  sufficient  testimony,  that 
Enuy  hirself  was  dumbe  in  her  dispraise,  finding  in  het 
much  to  repine  at,  but  naught  to  reproue.  The  clearenes 
of  hir  honor  I  neede  not  to  mention,  she  hauing  alwaies 
armed  it  with  such  modestie  as  taught  the  most  vntem- 
perate  tongues  to  be  silent  in  her  presence,  and  answered 
their  eyes  with  scorne  and  contempt,  that  did  but  seeme 
to  make  her  an  aime  to  passion  ;  yea,  and  in  this  behalfe, 
as  almost  in  all  others,  shee  hath  the  most  honourable 
and  knowen  ladies  of  the  Land  so  common  and  knowen 
witnesses,  that  those  that  least  loued  her  rehgion  were  in 
loue  with  her  demeanour,  deliuering  their  opinions  in 
open  praises.  How  mildely  she  accepted  the  checke  of 
fortune  fallen  vpon  her  without  desert,  experience  hath 
bin  a  most  manifest  proofe ;  the  temper  of  her  mind  being 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  Ixxix 

SO  easie  that  she  found  little  difficultie  in  taking  downe 
her  thoughts  to  a  meane  degree,  which  true  honour  not 
pride  hath  raised  to  her  former  height ;  her  faithfulnes 
and  loue,  where  she  found  true  friendship,  is  written  with 
teares  in  many  eies,  and  will  be  longer  registred  in  grate- 
ful memories.'^  Scattered  up  and  down  the  '  Triumphs' 
are  felicitous  conceits  and  most  ingenious  applications  of 
Bible  facts  and  names  :  e.g.  '  Would  Saul  have  thought 
it  friendship  to  have  wept  for  his  fortune  in  hauing  found 
a  kingdome  by  seeking  of  cattel  ?  or  Dauid  account  it 
a  curtesie  to  have  sorowed  at  his  successe,  that  from 
folowing  sheep  came  to  foyle  a  giant  and  receiue  in  fine 
a  royall  crowne  for  his  victorie  ?  Why  then  should 
her  loss  bee  lamented  V  Again  :  '  Wee  moisten  not  the 
ground  with  pretious  waters.  They  were  stilled  to  nobler 
endes,  eyther  by  their  fruits  to  delight  our  sences,  or  by 
their  operation  to  preserve  our  healths.  Our  teares  are 
water  of  too  high  a  price  to  be  prodigally  poured  in  the 
dust  of  any  graues.  If  they  be  teares  of  loue,  they  per- 
fume our  prayers.'  Once  more :  '  When  Moses  threw 
his  rod  from  him,  it  became  a  serpent,  redy  to  sting,  and 
affrighted  him,  insomuch  as  it  made  him  to  flee ;  but 
being  quickly  taken  vp,  it  was  a  rod  againe,  seruiceable 
for  his  vse,  no  way  hurtful.  The  crosse  of  Christ  and 
rod  of  every  tribulation  seem  to  threaten  stinging  and 
terrour  to  those  that  shunne  and  eschew  it,  but  they  that 
mildely  take  it  up  and  embrace  it  with  patience  may  say 
with  David  (Psalme  xxiii.),  "  Thy  rod  and  Thy  staffe 

'  Our  text  is  the  edition  of  1590,  which  being  unpaged,  re- 
ferences are  not  easy :  but  being  short  the  Reader  will  readily 
find  our  quotations.  Sir  Egerton  Brydges  reprinted  the  '  Tri- 
umphs.' 


IxXX  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

have  been  my  comfort."  '  Yet  again  :  '  She  stood  vpon 
too  lowe  a  ground  to  take  view  of  her  Sauior's  most  de- 
sired countenance,  and  forsaking  the  earth,  with  Zacheus, 
she  climed  vp  into  the  tree  of  Ufe,  there  to  giue  her  soule 
a  full  repast  on  His  beauties.  .  .  .  shee  departed,  with 
Jepthae's  daughter  from  her  father's  house,  but  to  passe 
some  moneths  in  wand  ring  about  the  mountaynes  of  this 
troublesome  world.  .  .  .  and  to  ascend  out  of  this  desart 
like  a  stemme  [=  steam]  of  perfume  out  of  burned 
spices.'  WiLLMOTT  appositely  (as  before,  first  edition  of 
'  Lives,'  p.  13)  reminds  us  in  relation  to  the  closing  image, 
that  the  voice  of  the  '  Lady'  in  Comus  is  described  as 
rising  '  like  a  steam  of  rich  distilled  perfumes.'  The  fol- 
lowing seems  to  me  to  contain  in  brief  a  very  famous  paper 
of  Addison  in  The  Spectator :  '  If  men  should  lay  all 
their  evilles  together,  to  be  afterwards  by  equall  portions 
divided  among  them,  most  men  would  rather  take  that 
they  brought  than  stand  to  the  diuision.'  I  close  with  three 
sentences  ('  golden'  the  Puritans  would  have  called  them) 
that  you  inevitably  note  in  reading  :  '  That  which  dietli 
to  our  loue  is  always  aliue  to  our  sorrow.'  '  The  termes 
of  our  life  are  like  the  seasons  of  the  yeare,  some  for  sow- 
ing, some  for  growing,  and  some  for  reaping  :  in  this 
only  different,  that  as  the  heauens  keepe  their  prescribed 
periods,  so  the  succession  of  times  have  their  appointed 
changes ;  but  in  the  seasons  of  our  life,  which  are  not  the 
laws  of  necessarie  causes,  some  are  reaped  in  the  seed, 
some  in  the  blade,  some  in  the  vnripe  eares,  all  in  the 
end :  the  haruest  depending  vpon  the  Reaper's  wil.'  '  The 
dwarfe  groweth  not  on  the  highest  hill,  nor  the  tall  man 
looseth  not  his  height  in  the  lowest  valley.' 

'  Mary   IVIagdalene's   Fiinerall   Teares'    was  in   part 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  Ixxxi 

reprinted  by  Dr.  Isaac  Watts  along  with  his  own 
Hymns  ;  and  it  has  never,  I  suppose,  been  '  out  of  print.' 
I  confess,  that  it  has  a  morbid  sentimentalism  about 
it  not  at  all  pleasing — after  the  type  of  a  good  deal 
of  Father  Faber's  otherwise  striking  and  suggestive 
Prose — an  over-dwelling  upon  and  over-valuation  of 
'  weeping'  ijer  se,  that  repells.  And  yet  ever  and  anon 
one  is  arrested  by  a  quaint  fancy,  an  odd  metaphor,  as 
of  a  gargoyle  or  cathedral-stall  oaken  carving.  Thus 
of  Mary,  as  she  stood  at  the  empty  tomb  in  her  sor- 
row, he  says,  '  Alas,  how  vnfortunate  is  this  woman,  to 
whom  neither  life  will  afoord  a  desired  farewell,  nor 
death  allow  any  wished  welcome  !  Bhe  hath  abandoned 
the  liuing,  and  chosen  the  company  of  the  dead ;  and 
now  it  seemeth  that  euen  the  dead  have  forsaken  her, 
since  the  coarse  she  seeketh  is  taken  away  from  her^^ 
Again  :  '  Though  teares  were  rather  oyle  than  water  to 
her  flame,  apter  to  nourish  than  diminish  her  griefe,  yet 
now  being  plunged  in  the  depth  of  paine,  she  yeelded 
herselfe  captiue  to  all  discomfort.'  Once  more:  '  Re- 
member [Lord]  that  Thou  saidst  to  her  sister,  that  *'  Mary 
had  chosen  the  better  part,  which  should  not  be  taken 
from  her."  That  she  chose  the  "  best  part"  is  out  of 
the  question,  sith  she  made  choice  of  nothing  but  only  of 
Thee.  But  how  can  it  be  verified,  that  this  part  shall 
not  be  taken  from  her,  sith  Thou  that  art  this  part  art 
already  taken  away?'  Here  and  elsewhere,  without  au- 
thority, Southwell  assumes  '  Mary  Magdalene'  to  have 
been  Mary  of  Bethany :  but  the  argument  is  lovingly 

'  As  with  the  '  Triumphs,"  our  text  fl630)  is  unpaged,  and 
hence  we  can't  give  references  for  our  quotations ;  but  again 
the  treatise  is  brief. 

/ 


Ixxxii  MKMORIAL-IXTROnUCTlON. 

dexterous  on  the  (erroneous)  assumption.  Reasoning 
that  is  now  commonplace,  through  famiharity,  is  notice- 
able in  its  early  occurrence  in  our  Worthy:  e.  g.  '  Would 
any  theefe,  thinkest  thou,  haue  beene  so  religious,  as  to 
haue  stolen  the  body  and  left  the  clothes  1  yea,  would 
he  haue  beene  so  vertuous  as  to  haue  stayed  the  vn- 
shrouding  of  the  coarse,  the  well-ordering  of  the  sheets, 
and  folding  vp  the  napkins  ?  Thou  knowest  that  the 
myrrh  maketh  linnen  cleaue  as  fast  as  pitch  or  glue : 
and  was  a  theefe  at  so  much  leasure,  as  to  dissolue  the 
myrrh  and  vncloath  the  dead  ?'  and  so  on.  Once  more  : 
'  If  thou  [Mary]  seest  anything  that  beareth  colour  of 
mirth,  it  is  vnto  thee  like  the  rich  spoiles  of  a  van- 
quished kingdome  in  the  eye  of  a  captiue  prince,  which 
puts  him  in  mind  what  he  had,  not  what  he  hath,  and 
are  but  vpbraidings  of  his  losse  and  whetstones  of  sharper 
sorrow.'  Again  :  '  Loue  is  no  gift  except  the  giuer  be 
giuen  with  it ;'  and  '  Loue  is  not  ruled  with  reason,  but 
with  loue.'  Yet  again  :  '  If  sorrow  at  the  crosse  did  not 
make  thee  as  deafe  as  at  the  tombe,  it  maketh  thee  for- 
getfull,  thou  diddest  in  confirmation  hereof  heare  Him- 
selfe  say  to  one  of  the  theeues,  that  the  same  day  he 
should  be  with  Him  in  Paradise.'  Finally  :  on  the  words 
'  she  taking  Him  to  be  a  gardener,'  there  is  this  odd 
expostulation  passing  into  genuine  exposition :  '  Hath 
thy  Lord  liued  so  long,  laboured  so  much,  died  with  such 
paine,  and  shed  such  showers  of  bloud,  to  come  to  no 
higher  preferment,  than  to  be  a  gardener?  And  hast 
thou  bestowed  such  cost,  so  much  sorrow  and  so  many 
teares,  for  no  better  man  than  a  silly  gardener  ?  Alas, 
is  the  sorry  garden  the  best  inheritance  that  thy  loue 
can  afoord  Him,  or  a  gardener's  office  the  highest  dig- 


WEMORIAL-liNTRODUCTION.  Ixxxiii 

nitie  that  tliou  wilt  allow  Him  ?    It  had  beene  better  He 
had  lined  to  haue  beene  lord  of  thy  cattle  [Magdala], 
than  with  His  death  so  dearely  to  haue  bought  so  small 
a  purchase.      But  thy  mistaking  hath  in  it  a  further 
mysterie.     Thou  thinkest  not  amisse,  though  thy  sight 
be  deceiued.    For  as  our  first  father,  in  the  state  of  grace 
and  innocency,  was  placed  in  the  garden  of  pleasure, 
and  the  first  office  allotted  him  was  to  be  a  gardener ;  so 
the  first  man  that  euer  was  in  glory,  appeareth  first  in 
a  garden,  and  presenteth  Himselfe  in  a  gardener's  like- 
nesse,  that  the  beginnings  of  glorie  might  resemble  the 
entrance  of  innocencie  and  grace.     And  as  the  gardener 
was  the  fall  of  mankinde,  the  parent  of  sinne,  and.  au- 
thor of  death,  so  is  this  gardener  the  raiser  of  our  mines, 
the  ransome  of  our  offences,  and  the  restorer  of  life.    In 
a  garden  Adam  was  deceiued  and  taken  captiue  by  the 
deuill.     In  a  garden  Christ  was  betrayed  and  taken  pri- 
soner by  the  Jewes.    In  a  garden  Adam  was  condemned 
to  earne  his  bread  with  the  sweat  of  his  browes.     And 
after  a  free  gift  of  the  bread  of  angels  in  the  Last  Sup- 
per, in  a  garden  Christ  did  earne  it  vs  with  a  bloudy 
sweat  of  His  whole  body.      By  disobedient  eating  the 
fruit  of  a  tree,  our  right  to  that  garden  was  by  Adam 
forfeited ;   and  by  the  obedient  death  of  Christ  vpon  a 
tree,  a  farre  better  right  is  now  recouered.    When  Adam 
had  sinned  in  the  garden  of  pleasure,  he  was  there  ap- 
parelled in  dead  beasts'  skinnes,  that  his  garment  might 
betoken  his  graue,  and  his  liuery  of  death  agree  with 
his  condemnation  to  die.     And  now  to  defray  the  debt 
of  that  sinne,  in  this  garden  Christ  lay  clad  in  the  dead 
man's  shrowd  and  buried  in  his  tombe,  that  as  our  harmes 
began,  so  they  might  end ;   and  such  places  and  mcanes 


Ixxxiv  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

as  were  the  premises  to  our  misery,  might  be  also  the 
conclusions  of  our  misfortune ;'  and  so  on,  after  the 
manner  of  St.  Bernard.  '  Mary  Magdalen's  Funerall 
Teares'  supplies  also  words  of  Southwell  used  in  his 
Poems,  e.  g.  sindon,  wrecke  as  =  wreak,  demurres,  and 
the  like. 

The  '  Short  Rules'  are  in  many  respects  admirable 
and  '  charitable,'  but  offer  nothing  very  remarkable.  The 
instructions  concerning  '  children'  and  *  servants'  are 
good.^ 

With  relation  to  the  Stonyhurst  mss.  I  must  express 
an  earnest  hope  that  some  one  capable  will  make  them 
the  basis  of  an  adequate  edition  of  the  Prose  Writings 
of  Southwell,  and  that  the  ms.  '  Meditations,'  formerly 
in  possession  of  Walter  and  lately  of  Dolman,  will  be 
forthcoming.  The  '  Precationes'  and  *  Meditationes'  and 
'  Notes  on  Theology'  most  certainly  ought  not  to  remain 
in  MS.  only. 

Passing  now  to  the  Poetry  of  our  Worthy,  from  its 
greater  extent,  St.  Peter's  Complaint  claims  perhaps  first 
thought.  When  we  come  to  examine  it,  to  '  search'  it 
— the  old  (English)  Bible  word — it  is  discovered  to  par- 
take very  much  of  the  character  of  the  shorter  poems. 
That  is  to  say,  that  while  a  thread  of  unity  runs  through 
it,  it  really  is  rather  a  succession  of  separate  studies  on 
the  sad  Fall  of  St.  Peter  than  a  single  rounded  poem ; 
so  much  so,  that  were  it  divided  into  portions  and  given 

'  Originally  issued  as  'A  Shorte  Rule,'  the  little  tractate  gi-ew 
to  the  '  Short  Eules'  of  the  collective  edition  of  1630.  Kerslake 
of  Bristol  had  an  autograph  ms.  of  the  earlier  form,  '  A  shorte 
Rule  of  Good  Lyfe  to  direct  the  devoute  Christian  in  a  regular 
and  orderlie  course.'  (Catal.  Feb.  1860,  No.  449,  4/.  14s.) 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  IXXXV 

headings,  as  with  the  minor  pieces  in  the  1616  edition, 
we  should  discern  no  abruptness,  and  no  distinction  as 
between  them  and  the  others.  As  we  have  found  in  the 
Memoir,  the  Stonyhurst  mss,  contain  only  12  out  of  the 
131  stanzas  (see  page  2) ;  and  in  this  form  it  exists  in 
various  contemporary  and  later  copies.  Again,  in  Eliza- 
beth Grymeston's  Miscellanea,  Meditations  Memora- 
tiues  (1604),  ^  sixteene  staves'  are  taken  from  the  long 
Poem,  which  it  is  said  '  she  usually  sung  and  played  on 
winde  instruments.'  Each  '  stave'  or  stanza  is  prefaced 
by  prose  'meditations'  or  prayers,  simple,  sweet,  and 
affectionate.  Thus  it  would  seem  St.  Peter's  Complaint 
extended  beyond  its  Author's  original  design.  That  it 
cost  him  no  little  thought  and  '  pains'  and  prayer,  the 
fragmentary  mss.  of  Stonyhurst  prove.  There  are  sepa- 
rate stanzas  written  and  re-written,  and  corrected  and  re- 
corrected  :  e.g.  a  heading  is  '  The  Peeter  Playnt'  {sic)  with 
'  The'  erased ;   and  then  as  follows  : 

peer 
'  That  sturdy  peter  ^nd  boaste 

The  champion  stout  which  did  with  othe  avowe 
Amyds  a  thousand  pykes  and  blody  blades 
At  his  deare  masters  syde  to  yeld  the  ghoast 
Perceyvyng  that  he  conquered  of  two  mades        wittTdread*^ 

his  credit  distayne  and  oowardyce 

Even  at  the  pinch  from  premiss  did  retyi'e  he  fades,  and 

a7iffri/      smart  at  the  pinch 

The  shame,  the  pitye  and  the  gryping  griefe        his  loyalty  doth 
Loth  of  his  fait  and  of  his  maysters  paynes  stayne. 

A  thousand  daggers  stabbed  in  his  hart  [erased] 
did  with  puniardes      pushes  [erased]  stabbe 

A  thousand  luoundes  prickyns  [erased]  pearce  [erased]  his 
hart.' 

So  throughout.  There  are  also  prose-jottings  of  ideas 
and  metaphors  for  the  poem :  e.g.  commencing  with  verse 
and  going  on  ad  interim  in  prose  : 


Ixxxvi  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

'  Ech  eie  of  Chryst  a  rimniug  tunge  did  seeme 
ech  lyk  a  listning 
And  peters  eis  so  many  eagre  eares  ['  s'  erased]     Eclie  ey  of  pe- 
Prest  to  recyve  the  voyce  and  it  esteame  iTiLg^eare"**' 

According  to  that  sense  that  it  should  heare. 
More  fierce  he  seemed  to  say  ar  thy  eis 
Then  the  iminous  hands  which  shall  naile  me  on  the  crosse 
Nether  feele  I  any  blow  [sic]  which  do  so  annoy  me 
Of  so  many  which  this  gylty 
rahle  doth  on  me  lay 

As  that  blow  which  came  out  of  thy  mouth. 
None  faythful  found  I,  none  courteous 
Of  so  many  that  I  have  vochsafned  to  be  myne 
But  thow  in  whome  my         was  more  kyndled 
And  faythlesse  and  iingi-atefull  above  all  other 
All  other  with  there  (cowardly)  flyght  did  only  oflfend 
me  my 

But  thou  hast  denyed  and  now  with  the  other  (foes)  [sic]  ghilty 
Standest  feedynd  thy  eies  with  my  damage  (and  sorowes) 
As  though  part  of  this  pleasur  belonged  unto  the.' 

These  specimens  must  suffice;  and  the  critical  Reader 
will  delight  to  compare  them  with  the  ultimate  published 
Poem.^ 

In  the  Note  to  St.  Peter's  Complaint  (page  2)  I  ven- 
ture to  assign  it  a  foremost  place  only  on  the  ground  of  its 
being  longer  than  the  others.  I  adhere  to  the  verdict,  inas- 
much as  there  are  in  '  Mjeonite'  and  our  '  Myrta^'  shorter 
pieces  that  attain  a  reach  and  sweep,  and  which  gleam 
with  a  dove-neck  or  peacock-crest  splendour  of  colour,  only 
now  and  again  paralleled  in  the  '  Complaint.'  At  the  same 
time,  regarded  as  so  many  distinct  Studies  of  the  tragic 
Incident,  it  is  ignorance,  not  knowledge,  glance-and-run 
reading,  not  insight,  that  will  pronounce  it  tedious  or  idly 

'  As  these  variations  and  studies  are  peculiarly  interesting 
I  give  the  remainder  (not  extensive)  in  Additional  Notes  and  Il- 
lustrations at  close  of  the  Volume. 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  Ixxxvii 

paraphrastic.  Bishop  Hall,  among  the  many  mis-esti- 
mates of  his  passionate  youth,  in  his  '  Satires'  (Book  i. 
viii.)  has  one  mocking  line  on  the  '  Complaint :' 

'  Now  good  St.  Peter  weeps  pure  Helicon,' 

with  a  gibe  at  *  Mary's  Funerall  Teares;'  and  Gervase 
Markham's  '  Lamentations  of  Mary  Magdalene'  (reprinted 
in  our  Fuller  Worthies'  Miscellanies)  : 

'  And  both  the  Marys  make  a  music  luoan.' 
But  Marston  repaid  the  Satirist  with  compound  interest : 

'  Come  daunce,  ye  stumbling  SatjTes,  by  his  side, 
If  he  list  once  the  Syon  Muse  deride. 
Ye  Granta's  white  nymphs  come,  and  with  you  bring 
Some  sillabub,  whilst  he  does  sweetly  sing 
'Gainst  Peter's  Teares  and  Marie's  mouing  Moane, 
And,  like  a  fierce  enraged  boare  doth  foame.'' 

Lodge  and  Nash  have  kindly  allusions  to  the  '  Funerall 
Teares'  and  Southwell  :  the  former  in  his  '  Prosopopeia, 
containing  the  Teares  of  the  holy,  blessed,  and  sancti- 
fied Marie,  the  mother  of  God'  (see  Shakespeare  Society 
Papers,  ii.  157);  and  so  too  in  '  Pierce's  Supererogation.' 
But  it  is  from  the  shorter  Poems  the  vitality  of  South- 
well's memory  as  a  Singer  has  sprung  and  will  abide. 
Our  Memoir  establishes  that  some  of  the  tenderest  and 
sweetest  must  have  been  composed  after  the  anguish  of 
his  '  thirteen  rackings'  and  other  prison  tortures.  The  poor 
Canary  continuing  to  sing  in  the  darkness  of  its  artificial 
and  cruel  sightlessness  (for  the  eyes  are  put  out  on  pur- 
pose to  secure  '  singing'  at  night  as  during  the  day)  is  an 
imperfect  symbol  of  our  Poet  continuing  to  utter  out 
the  music  that  was  in  him  under  such  contlitions.     Pro- 

'  Reactio,  sat.  iv.  Hall's  Works  (18.39),  vol.  xii.  pp.  1G9-170. 


IxXXviii  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

bably  his  entire  Poems  were  produced  in  prison ;  and  I 
must  reiterate  that  this  inevitableness  surely  determines 
that  his  most  quaint  and  affected-seeming  Verse  was  na- 
tural, spontaneous,  truthful.    The  man  is  a  pretender  who 
can  really  '  ponder'  '  Myrtle'  and  '  Majonije'  and  the  rest, 
and  not  recognise  a  born-poet  in  Southwell;  not  supreme, 
high-soaring,  imaginatiye,  grand,  but  within  his  own  self- 
chosen  lowly  sphere  pure  and  bright,  well-languaged  and 
memorable  and  thought-packed.^    I  name  and  only  name 
'  Tymes  goe  by  Turnes;'  '  Look  Home;'  '  Scorne  not  the 
Least;'  'A  Child  my  Choyce;'    'Content  andEiche;' 
'  Love's  Servile  Lott;'    'Life  is  but  Losse,'  and  those 
related;  '  Lewd  Lone  is  Losse;'  '  Dyer's  Phansie  turned 
to  a  Synner's  Complaynte;'  and  the  whole  series  on  the 
Lord  and  His  Mother,  with  every  abatement  that  we,  who 
are  Protestants,  must  make  in  respect  of  the  uttermost 
recognition  of  her  as  the  God-bearer  {Qzoroxog.)     The 
Latin  Poems — printed  by  us  for  the  first  time — have,  as 
our  few  notes  show,  certain  superficial  metrical  defects  ; 
but  apart  from  other  things,  as  their  subjects,  which  are 
of  special  interest,  I  must  regard  the  long  poem  on  the 
Assumption  of  the  Virgin  as  bold,  original,  unforgettable; 
while  that  on  the  Prodigal  has  a  pre-Eaphaelite  reahsm 
that  is  taking.    Altogether,  in  recollection  of  their  (early) 
date  and   of  the  circumstances  of  their  composition,  it 
were  a  loss  to  our  small  body  of  English  Sacred  Poetry 
to  lose  Southwell.     The  hastiest  Eeader  will  come  on 
'  thinking'  and  '  feehng'  that  are  as  musical  as  Apollo's 
lute,  and  as  fresh  as  a  spring-budding  spray ;  and  the 
wording  of  all  (excepting  over-alliteration  and  inversion 

'  Cf.  the  Preface -Epistle  to  bis  '  loving  cosen'  for  his  humble 
self-estimate,  as  onward. 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.  Ixxxix 

occasionally)  is  throughout  of  the  '  pure  well  of  English 
undefiled.'  When  you  take  some  of  the  '  Myrtse'  and 
'  M^oniaa'  pieces,  and  read  and  re-read  them,  you  are 
struck  with  their  condensation,  their  concinnity,  their 
polish,  their  elan,  their  memorableness.  Holiness  is  in 
them  not  as  scent  on  love- locks,  but  as  fragrance  in  the 
Great  Gardener's  flowers  of  fragrance.  His  tears  are 
pure  and  white  as  the  *  dew  of  the  morning.'  His  smiles 
— for  he  has  humour,  even  wit,  that  must  have  lurked 
in  the  burdened  eyes  and  corners  o'  mouth — are  sunny 
as  sunshine.  As  a  whole  his  Poetry  is  healthy  and 
strong,  and  I  thmk  has  been  more  potential  in  our  Lite- 
rature than  appears  on  the  surface.  I  do  not  think  it 
would  be  hard  to  show  that  others  of  whom  more  is  heard 
drew  light  from  him,  as  well  early  as  more  recent,  from 
Burns  to  Thomas  Hood.  For  example,  limiting  us  to 
the  latter,  I  believe  every  Reader  who  will  compare  the 
two  deliberately,  will  see  in  the  '  Vale  of  Tears'  the  source 
of  the  latter's  immortal  '  Haunted  House' — dim,  faint, 
weak  beside  it,  as  the  earth-hid  bulb  compared  with  the 
lordly  blossom  of  hyacinth  or  tulip  or  lily — nevertheless 
really  carrying  in  it  the  original  of  the  mightier  after- 
poem. 

It  only  remains  that  I  bring  before  our  Readers  cer- 
tain Shakespereana  out  of  Southwell.  And  in  the 
outset  here,  while  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  find  allu- 
sions to  Shakespeare  in  contemporary  writings  when 
the  writers  were  not  thinking  of  him — though  I  believe 
that  his  scenic  realities  were  more  suggestive  to  his  bro- 
ther authors  than  is  commonly  supposed — and  while  I  do 
not  think  that  he  alone  is  alluded  to  in  the  Epistle  to  his 
'  loving  cosen'  as  preface  to  St.  Peter's  Complaint,  I  yet 

m 


XP  MIvM(>UlAL-lXTR(Jl)rt'TI(>X. 

must  discern  thought  of  the  Poet  of  '  Venus  and  Adonis' 
and  '  Lucrece'  in  these  words,  which  1  give  from  the 
Stonyhurst  autograph  in  the  original  spelling,  not  as  in 
our  reprint  (in  its  place)  from  159G  :  '  The  devill  as  he 
affecteth  deitye,  and  seeketh  to  have  all  the  complementes 
of  divine  honor  applied  to  his  service,  so  hath  he  amonge 
the  reste  possessed  also  most  Poetes  with  his  idle  phancies; 
for  in  liew  of  solemne  and  devoute  matter,  to  which  in 
dutye  they  owe  their  abilities,  they  now  busy  themselves 
in  expressing  such  passions  as  onely  serve  for  testimo- 
nies to  howe  unworthy  affections  they  have  wedded  their 
willes.  And  because  the  best  course  to  lett  them  see  the 
error  of  their  workes  is  to  weave  a  newe  webb  in  their 
owne  loome,  I  have  here  laid  a  fewe  course  thredds  to- 
gether to  invite  some  skilfuUer  wittes  to  goe  forward  in 
the  same  or  to  beginne  some  fyner  peece,  wherein  it  maye 
be  scene  how  well  verse  and  vertae  suite  together.'  Then 
in  St.  Peter's  Complaint  (The  Author  to  the  Reader)  we 
have  this  more  express  allusion  : 

'  Still  finest  wits  are  'stilling  Venvs'  rose, 
In  Payuim  toyes  the  sweetest  vaines  are  spent.' 

We  shall  produce  internal  and  external  evidence  imme- 
diately ;  but  at  this  point  I  observe  that  in  '  Mary  Mag- 
dalen's Fanerall  Teares'  there  is  like  lamentation  over 
the  '  finest  wits'  given  up  to  mere  '  idle'  love-verse,  yet 
with  a  very  clear  recognition  of  the  loftiest  genius :  e.  g. 
in  the  Epistle-dedicatory,  '  The  Ji nest  wits  are  now  giuen 
to  write  passionate  discourses;'  and  in  'To  the  Reader,' 
'  It  may  be  that  cotirteous  skill  will  reckon,  this  though 
course  in  respect  of  others'  exquisite  labours,  not  unfit  to 
entertaine  well- tempered  humours.' 

Be  it  remembered  farther  that  at  the  })oriod  '  St.  Pe- 


MEMOltlAL-lNTHODUCTJON.  XCl 

ter's  Complaint'  was  written,  '  Venus  and  Adonis'  was 
one  of  the  poems  of  the  day,  tabled  and  learnt  by  the 
gallants,  and  applied  by  them  in  complimentary  address 
to  their  mistresses :  also,  that  the  stanza-form  of  the  two 
poems  is  identical,  and  that  '  Venus'  is  mentioned  by 
name.  Then  more  specifically  in  the  next  stanza  (11.  2-4) 
and  St.  vi.  of  the  '  Complaint'  itself,  reference  is  intended 
to  the  same  chiefest  Poets  (and  it  need  hardly  be  said 
that  the  modern  theory  of  the  non-appreciation  of  Shake- 
speare by  his  contemporaries  is  a  baseless  and  ignorant 
vision);  and  that  at  a  time  when  epithets  were  fixed  upon 
each  author  of  mark,  and  when  '  sweef  was  a  recognised 
appellative  of  the  silver-tongued  Meliceit — coming  up  later 
in  Milton  to  the  perplexity  of  the  present  Archbishop  of 
Dublin  (Trench),  through  his  forgetfulness  of  the  love 
and  intensity  that  went  as  elements  in  the  word  *  sweet,'  as 
then  and  even  still  in  the  rapture  of  fellowship  with  the 
Lord  Jesus.  Hence  I  conclude  that  Shakespeare's  'ex- 
quizite  labours'  and  '  finest  wit'  were  included  in  '  the 
heavenly  sparks  of  wit  who  spend  their  sweetest  veins  in 
Paynim  toys.' 

Nor  is  this  all.  Turning  to  St.  Peter's  Complaint, 
st.  Ivii.-ix.  and  part  of  the  next,  and  especially  the  first 
two  lines  of  the  stanza  next  but  one  (st.  Ixii.),  and  st. 
Ixv.  'Oh  eyes,  whose  glances!' — let  the  Shakesperean 
student  compare  them  with  the  thesis  maintained  by 
Biron  in  Love's  Labour  Lost  (iv.  .3) : 

'  From  women's  eyes  this  doctrine  I  derive : — 
They  sijarkle  still  the  right  Promethean /ire  ; 
They  are  the  booka,  the  arts,  the  acudemien. 
That  shoiv,  contain,  and  nourish  all  the  world." 

Biron's  speech  being  a  humorously  sophistical  mainten- 


XCU  MEMUHIAL-IXTKUDUCTION. 

ance  of  a  thesis  iu  scholastic  form — not  noticing  which 
the  Commentators  have  gone  astray.  In  our  Notes  and 
Ilhistrations  I  furnish  other  SnAKESPEARE-parallels  and 
(probable  or  possible)  allusions  and  elucidations  :  and  I 
invite  attention  to  them. 

By  the  way,  it  is  worth  recording  that  one  unusual 
use  of  a  word  ('vaunt,'  page  90)  by  Southwell,  has  a 
near  parallel  in  the  Prologue  to  Troilus  and  Cressida, 
'  leaps  o'er  the  vaunt.'  Then,  as  noted  in  the  place  (p.  49), 
'  the  cold  brook  candied  with  ice'  (Timon,  act  iv.  sc.  3); 
if  Shakespeare's,  was  not  improbably  borrowed  from 
our  Poet,  for  Timon  in  its  present  state  is  several  years 
later  than  1595.  On  the  other  hand,  the  words  may  be 
those  of  the  older  Play.  Farther,  in  '  Of  the  Blessed 
Sacrament  of  the  Aulter'  =  as  we  have  seen,  '  The  Chris- 
tian's Manna,'  stanza  iii.,  smacks  of  Cu})id's  prologue 
in  the  same  Timon  (i.  2).  It  is  allowable  to  indulge  in 
the  '  pleasures  of  imagination'  that  the  mightier  Poet  read 
the  lesser,  and  that  the  lesser  recognised  the  coming 
effulgence  of  England's  supremest  genius.  One  sentence 
in  the  Epistle  to  his  '  loving  cosen'  reveals  that  play  or 
stage-fetched  metaphors  were  not  accounted  unhallowed 
by  our  Worthy,  inasmuch  as  he  applies  such  to  the  Tra- 
gedy and  Pageant  of  Calvary.  From  Southwell's  pos- 
session in  (necessarily)  ms.  of  Sir  Edward  Dyer's  'Phansie' 
(turned  by  him  characteristically  into  a  '  Sinner's  Plaint'), 
it  is  plain  he  had  access  to  circles  where  such  Manuscripts 
were  circulated,  and  it  may  be  even  Shakespeare's  '  copies 
in  MS.'  of  his  '  sweet'  poems  similarly  reached  him.  It 
does  not  appear  that  he  had  seen  Lord  Brooke's  deeper 
original  of  Dyer's  '  Phansie.'  We  have  also  pleasantly 
to  remember  that  in  his  '  Conversations'  with  Drummond 


M  EMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 


of  Hawthoniden,  Ben  Juns^on  thus  spoke  of  Southwell 
and  one  of  his  poems  :  '  That  Southwell  was  hanged  ;  yet 
so  he  [Jonson]  had  written  that  piece  of  his,  the  Burning 
Babe,  he  would  have  been  content  to  destroy  many  of 
his'  (Laing's  edit.  p.  13) :  and  if  Jqnson  'read'  South- 
well, equally  may  '  gentle  Will'  have  done  so. 

Regarding  the  'wording'  of  Southwell's  poetry,  it 
seems  to  me  very  pure  English  for  the  time,  which  is  the 
more  noticeable  in  that  a  Latinate  style  might  have  been 
expected.  Occasionally  there  is  a  poetic-archaic  word — of 
one  or  two  of  which  he  is  extremely  fond — and  also  in- 
tended or  accidental  provincialisms.  In  pronunciation 
the  liquid  syllables  are  generally  elided,  as  is  '  ow,'  and 
words  like  '  orient'  and  '  period'  are  trisyllabic,  '  spirit' 
gener-ally  read  as  '  sprite,'  '  haven'  '  heaven,'  '  even'  (as 
adv.-verb,  and  in  '  uneven')  always  monosyllabic,  and 
'  evil'  nearly  always  so — all  as  pointed  out  in  our  Notes 
and  Illustrations.  Now  and  then,  by  license  and  metri 
gratia,  -ions  and  -ion  are  made  dissyllables.  He  also 
makes  over-use  of  a  poetic  license  and  affectation,  and 
mars  the  sound  of  his  verse  by  the  too  frequently  recur- 
ring -ed.  His  sentences  are  short,  especially  so  as  com- 
pared with  many  writers  of  the  period,  and  rhythmical, 
and  he  adds  to  the  latter  by  a  marked  alliterativeness. 
In  construction  he  is  generally  clear  and  English,  and  as 
with  his  words,  less  Latinate  than  might  have  been  sup- 
posed, except  that  there  is  a  great  omission  of  the  arti- 
cle, a  great  use  of  ellipses  both  regular  and  irregular, 
and  far  too  frequent  inversions,  which  sometimes  obscure 
the  sense,  and  in  one  instance  imparts  a  dash  of  the 
ludicrous,  e.g.  'of  pearl  the  purest  mother,'  as  =  mother- 
of-pearl.    As  examples  of  irregular  ellipses,  we  find  '  thy 


Xciv  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

trespass'  [being],  which  has  to  be  taken  out  of  '  be'  (p, 
11,  line  17);  fray  [was]  (p.  18,  line  2);  part  [me  from 
Christ]  (p.  20,  line  13);  keep  [me]  (p.  29,  line  2).  The 
'  blind  in  seeing  what'  [was  present]  {p.  14,  line  2)  pro- 
bably comes  rather  under  the  head  of  a  colloquial  ellipse, 
and  one  of  those  many  phrases  in  the  old  writers  which 
are  more  or  less  obscure,  because  the  Writers  have  writ- 
ten too  much  as  they  would  have  spoken,  not  allow- 
ing for  the  absence  of  other  language,  and  for  that  sym- 
pathy and  consentaneous  knowledge  which  generally 
exist  between  the  speaker  and  listener.  Hence  we  find 
a  difficulty  at  times  in  referring  the  pronoun  to  its  pro- 
per noun,  because  the  writer  does  not  think  so  much  of 
the  word -construction  as  of  the  main  idea  or  subject 
of  his  discourse,  and  writes  too  colloquially.  Thus,  at 
p.  39,  lines  19-20,  'whose'  refers  to  'parts,'  not  to 
'gripes;'  and  at  p.  .119,  line  8,  'he'  is  not  Joseph, 
but  God ;  and  at  p.  68,  the  '  they'  of  line  5  of  '  Scorne 
not  the  Leaste'  refers  not  to  higher  powers,  but  to 
'  feebler  part.' 

There  is  another  obscurity  common  to  Southwell  and 
writers  of  his  day,  in  connection  with  the  possessive  pro- 
noun and  case,  which  is  dependent  on  the  causes  spoken 
of  above,  but  which  has  sometimes  been  mis-explained. 
'My  injuries'  meant,  according  to  the  context,  either  the 
injuries  done  by  another  to  me,  or  the  wrongs  that  I  do 
or  did  to  others ;  in  the  one  case  the  other  person  or 
persons  are  mainly  thought  of  and  considered  agental ; 
in  the  other  case  I  am  the  chief  subject  of  my  ideas  and 
the  agent.  In  such  phrases  as  '  this  box  is  my  gift,'  or 
'  this  box  is  his  gift,'  the  other  circumstances  alone  in- 
terpret whether  it  is  meant  'this  box  is  the  gift  bestowed 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 


on  me'  (or  him),  or  'this  box  is  the  gift  bestowed  by  me' 
(or  him).  '  Angels'  bread'  might  be,  bread  prepared  by 
or  brought  by  angels,  or  it  might  be  the  bread  given  to 
angels  —  according  to  whatever  the  context  determines 
to  be  the  agent.  So  in  'God  is  my  gift'  (p.  128,  line  17), 
it  is  only  the  context  that  shows  that  'gift'  is  that  which 
CJod  gave,  and  has  only  become  mine  through  His  agency, 
and  that  the  'God's  gift  am  1'  means  '  I  have  given  my- 
self as  a  gift  to  God.' 

I  cannot  close  these  inadequate  remarks  on  South - 
AVELL  without  expressing  the  profound  regret  and  pain 
— in  common  with  many  of  his  warmest  admirers — with 
which  I  read  Professor  Lowell's  verdict  on  his  Poetry, 
in  his  charming  '  My  Study  Windows'  (on  Smith's  '  Lib- 
rary of  old  Authors').  It  seems  to  me  harsh  to  brutal- 
ity on  the  man  (meet  follower  of  Him  '  the  first  true 
gentleman  that  ever  breathed') ;  while  on  the  Poetry  it 
rests  on  self- evidently  the  most  superficial  acquaintance 
and  the  hastiest  generalisation.  To  pronounce  '  St.  Pe- 
ter's Complaint'  a  '  drawl'  of  thirty  pages  of  '  maudlin 
repentance,  in  which  the  distinctions  between  the  north 
and  north-east  sides  of  a  [sic]  sentimentality  are  worthy 
of  Duns  Scotus,'  shows  about  as  much  knowledge — that 
is  ignorance — of  the  Poem  as  of  the  Schoolman,  and  as 
another  remark  does  of  St.  Peter :  for,  with  admitted 
tedium,  St.  Peter's  Complaint  sounds  depths  of  penit- 
ence and  remorse,  and  utters  out  emotion  that  flames 
into  passion  very  unforgettably,  while  there  are  felicities 
of  metaphor,  daintinesses  of  word-painting,  brilliancies  of 
inner-portraiture  scarcely  to  be  matched  in  contemporary 
Verse.  The  '  paraphrase'  of  David  (to  wit,  '  David's 
Peccavi')  is  a  single  short  piece,  and  the  '  punning'  con- 


XCVUl  MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

found  tliat  a  man  has,  for  the  sole  sake  of  self-abnega- 
tion, yielded  homage,  where,  if  his  object  had  been  perso- 
nal aggrandisement,  he  might  have  wielded  authority. 
Southwell,  if  that  which  comes  from  within  a  man  may 
be  taken  as  the  test  of  his  character,  was  a  devout  and 
humble  Christian.  In  the  choir  of  our  singers  we  only 
ask,  "  Dost  thou  lift  up  thine  heart?"  Southwell's  song 
answers  for  him :   "  I  lift  it  up  unto  the  Lord." 

'  His  chief  poem  is  called  St.  Pcter^s  Complaint.  It 
is  of  considerable  length  —  a  hundred  and  thirty-two 
stanzas.  It  reminds  us  of  the  Countess  of  Pembroke's 
poem  ['  Our  Saviour's  Passion'] ;  but  is  far  more  ar- 
ticulate and  far  superior  in  versification.  Perhaps  its 
chief  fault  is,  that  the  pauses  are  so  measured  with  the 
lines  as  to  make  every  line  almost  a  sentence,  the  effect 
of  which  is  a  considerable  degree  of  monotony.  Like  all 
luriters  of  the  time.,  he  is  of  course  fond  of  antithesis,  and 
abounds  in  conceits  and  fancies ;  whence  he  attributes  a 
multitude  of  expressions  to  St.  Peter,  of  which  never 
possibly  could  the  substantial  ideas  have  entered  the 
Apostle's  mind,  or  probably  any  other  than  Southwell's 
own.  There  is  also  a  good  deal  of  sentimentalism  in  the 
poem;  a  fault  from  which  I  fear  modern  Catholic  verse 
is  rarely  free.  Probably  the  Italian  poetry  with  which 
he  must  have  been' familiar  in  his  youth,  during  his  re- 
sidence in  Rome,  accustomed  him  to  such  irreverences 
of  expression  as  this  sentimentalism  gives  occasion  to, 
and  which  are  very  far  from  indicating  a  correspondent 
state  of  feeling.  Sentiment [alism]  is  a  poor  ape  of  love; 
but  the  love  is  true,  notwithstanding.'  There  follow  six 
stanzas  from  St.  Peter's  Complaint,  and  'two  little  stanzas 
worth  preserving,'  and  '  New  Prince,  New  Pomp,'  the  last 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION,  xcix 

thus  introduced:  ' The  following  poem,  in  style  almost  as 
simple  as  a  ballad,  is  at  once  of  the  quaintest  and  truest. 
Common  minds,  which  must  always  associate  a  certain 
conventional  respectability  with  the  forms  of  religion, 
will  think  it  irreverent.  I  judge  its  reverence  profound, 
and  such  none  the  less  that  it  is  pervaded  by  a  sweet  and 
delicate  tone  of  holy  humour.  The  very  title  has  a  glim- 
mer of  the  glowing  heart  of  Christianity.'  He  continues: 
'Another,  on  the  same  subject,  he  c&Wa  New  Heaven,  New 
War.  It  is  fantastic  to  a  degree.  One  stanza,  however, 
I  like  much : 

This  little  babe,  so  few  days  old,  &c. 
There  is  profoundest  truth  in  the  symbolism  of  this.'  I 
again  intercalate,  that  Ben  Jonson's  insight  was  disclosed 
in  his  love  for  the  kindred  Burning  Babe,  and  its  mao-- 
nificent  as  simple  symbolism.  Dr.  Macdonald  concludes 
with  the  latter  half  of  St.  Peter's  Remorse  and  Content 
and  Rich.^ 

I  believe,  then,  I  shall  not  appeal  in  vain  to  Prof. 
Lowell  to  give  a  few  hours  behind  his  '  Study  Win- 
dows' to  a  re-perusal  of  some  of  the  poems  of  South^vell 
named  by  us  and. these  sufficiently-qualified  Critics. 

And  so  I  take  from  '  The  Lady  of  La  Garaye'  a  por- 
trait of  a  Prior,  for  which  I  fancy  Father  Southwell 
might  have  sate : 

He  sits  by  Gertrude's  couch  and  patieut  listens 
To  her  wild  gi-ieving  voice  ;  bis  dark  eye  glistens 
With  tearful  sympathy  for  that  young  wife, 
Telling  the  torture  of  her  broken  life ; 
And  when  he  answers  her  she  seeius  to  know 
The  peace  of  resting  by  a  river's  flow. 

•  Pp.  96-103. 


MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. 

Tender  his  words,  and  eloquently  wise ; 

Mild  the  pure  fervour  of  his  watchful  eyes ; 

Meek  with  serenity  of  constant  prayer 

The  luminous  forehead,  high  and  hroad  and  hare  ; 

The  thin  mouth,  though  not  passionless,  yet  still ; 

With  a  sweet  calm  that  speaks  an  angel's  will, 

Resolving  service  to  his  God's  hehest, 

And  ever  musing  how  to  serve  Him  hest. 

Not  old,  nor  young ;  with  manhood's  gentlest  gi-ace ; 

Pale  to  transparency  the  pensive  face, 

Pale  not  with  sickness  hut  with  studious  thought. 

The  hody  tasked,  the  fine  mind  overwrought ; 

With  something  faint  and  fragile  in  the  whole. 

As  though  'twere  but  a  lamp  to  hold  a  soul.' 

Alexander  B.  Grosart.- 


1  By  Hon.  Mrs.  Norton  (1863),  pp.  120-1. 
"  At  end  of  our  Volume  I  add  a  few  farther  Notes  and  Blus- 
trations  on  points  touched  on  in  their  places. 


ST.  PETER'S  COMPLAINT. 


NOTE. 

We  place  St.  Peter's  Complaint  first,  simply  because  it  is 
the  longest  verse-production  of  its  author,  not  at  all  as  being 
his  best.  The  only  complete  us.  of  this  poem  known,  is  that 
of  Addl.  Mss.  10.422  in  British  Museum  ;  but  while  furnishing 
a  few  good  readings,  it  is,  in  common  with  the  whole  Manu- 
script, sorrowfully  careless  and  corrupt ;  as  fully  shown  in  our 
Preface.  The  Stonyhtjrst  ms.  and  Hakleian  ms.  6921  unfor- 
tunately contain  only  12  stanzas  out  of  the  132 ;  viz.  10,  11, 
28, 29, 14,  17,  30,  21,  22,  20,  23,  and  131  of  the  completed  poem. 
So  that  we  have  been  obliged  to  fall  back  on  the  printed  edi- 
tions. Again,  unfortunately,  we  have  most  unsatisfactory  texts 
to  work  on,  even  the  original  edition  of  1595  and  that  assigned 
by  us  to  1596  being  extremely  faulty  ;  as  also  shown  in  our 
Preface.  After  an  anxious  collation  of  mss.  and  editions,  we 
have  taken  for  basis  the  edition  of  1596  ;  and  in  Notes  and  Il- 
lustrations at  the  close  of  the  poem,  record  corrections  and 
various  readings,  with  their  several  authorities  in  ms.  and  print. 
Opposite  is  the  title-page  of  1596.  It  is  placed  within  an 
engi-aved  border  of  quaint  device,  and  having  in  the  centre  an 
open  book  with  an  hour-glass  set  on  it,  and  the  motto,  '  I  line 
to  dy :  I  dy  to  line'  (in  Jesus  College,  Oxford,  copy  there  is  this 
in  a  contemporary  hand,  '  Vt  moriar  vivo :  vt  viva  morior'),  and 
underneath  a  winged  death's-head  and  a  globe  ;  all  as  repro- 
duced in  fac-simile  in  our  illustrated  quarto  edition.  For  more 
on  this  edition,  and  certain  significances  in  its  ornaments,  and 
others,  see  our  Preface. 

The  Notes  and  Illustrations  are  placed  at  the  close  of  St. 
Peter's  Complaint,  and  of  each  of  the  others,  as  throughout. 
Our  Memorial-Introduction  sheds  light  on  the  formation  of  the 
'  Complaint :'  and  thither  the  reader  is  referred.  G. 


Saint 
PETERS    COM- 
PLAINT, 

Newly  augmented 
With  other  Poems. 


I  line  I  dy 

to  to 

dy  liue 


London, 

Printed  by  H.  L.  for  William  Lcakc :  and 
are  to  be  sold  at  his  shop  in  Paules  Church- 
yard, at  the  signe  of  the  holy 
Ghost. 

[n.d.    1596?  4to.] 


THE  AUTHOR  TO  HIS  LOUING  COSIN. 


Poets,  by  abusing  their  talent,  and  making  the  follies 
and  faynings  of  loue  the  customarie  subiect  of  their 
base  endeiiours,  haue  so  discredited  this  facultie,  that 
a  poet,  a  louer,  and  a  Iyer,  are  by  many  reckoned  but 
three  words  of  one  signification.  But  the  vanitie  of 
men  cannot  counterpoyse  the  authoritie  of  God,  Who 
deliuering  many  parts  of  Scripture  in  verse,  and,  by 
His  Apostle  willing  vs  to  exercise  our  deuotion  in 
hymnes  and  spiritual  sonnets,  warranteth  the  art  to 
be  good,  and  the  vse  allowable.  And  therefore  not 
onely  among  the  heathen,  whose  gods  were  chiefely 
canonized  by  their  poets,  and  their  paynim  diuinitie 
oracled,  in  verse,  but  euen  in  the  Olde  and  Newe 
Testament,  it   hath   beene  vsed  by  men   of  gi-eatest 

•  Tliis  forms  the  Author's  preface  to  the  volume  of  1595, 
aud  is  repeated  in  that  of  159G  and  after-editions.  On  the 
Stonyhukst  MS.  of  this  Epistle-dedicatory  see  our  Memorial- 
Introduction.  These  corrections  of  Tuenbull's  text  may  be 
noted :  line  8,  '  deliuering'  for  '  delivered :'  line  10,  '  sonnets' 
for  '  songs  :'  line  22,  '  and  footed'  dropped  out:  line  40,  '  com- 
mend it'  for  'he  commended:'  line  47,  'the  mcane'  for  'let 
them.'  These  readings  are  all  in  1616, 1620  and  1630,  as  well 
as  1595  and  1596.  G. 


THE  AUTHOR  TO  HIS  LOUING  COSIiN:.  5 

pietie,  in  matters  of  most  deuotioii.  Christ  Himselfe, 
by  making  a  liymne  the  condusion  of  His  Last  Sup- 
per, and  the  prologue  to  the  first  pageant  of  His  Pas- 
sion, gaue  His  Spouse  a  methode  to  imitate,  as  in  the 
office  of  the  Church  it  appeareth ;  and  to  all  men  a 
patterne,  to  know  the  true  vse  of  this  measured  and 
footed  stile. 

But  the  deuill,  as  he  aflfecteth  deitie  and  seeketh 
to  haue  all  the  complements  of  diuine  honour  applyed 
to  his  seruice,  so  hath  he  among  the  rest  possessed 
also  most  Poets  with  his  idle  fansies.  For  in  lieu  of 
solemne  and  deuout  matter,  to  which  in  duety  they  owe 
their  abilities,  they  now  busie  themselues  in  express- 
ing such  passions  as  onely  serue  for  testimonies  to 
what  unworthy  affections  they  haue  wedded  their  wills. 
And,  because  the  best  course  to  let  them  see  the  er- 
rour  of  their  Avorks  is  to  weaue  a  new  webbe  in  theu- 
owne  loome,  I  haue  heere  laide  a  few  course  threds 
together,  to  inuite  some  skilfuller  wits  to  goe  forward 
in  the  same,  or  to  begin  some  finer  peece;  wherein 
it  may  be  scene  how  well  verse  and  vertue  sute  to- 
gether. 

Blame  me  not  (good  Cosin)  tliough  I  send  you  a 
blame -worthy  present;  in  which  the  most  that  can 
commend  it  is  the  good  wiU  of  the  Writer ;  neither 
arte  nor  invention  giuing  it  any  credite.  If  in  me  this 
be  a  fault,  you  cannot  be  faultlesse  that  did  importune 
mc  to  commit  it,  and  tlicrefore  you  must  bcare  part 


6  THE  AUTHOR  TO  HIS  LOUING  COSIN. 

of  the  penance  when  it  shall  please  sharp  censures 
to  impose  it.  In  the  meane  time,  with  many  good 
wishes,  I  send  you  these  fewe  ditties;  adde  you  the 
tunes,  and  let  the  Meane,  I  pray  you,  be  still  a  part 
in  all  your  musicke. 


mi^^sm 


THE  AVTHOVR  TO  THE  READER.^ 

Deare  eye  that  doost  peruse  my  Muses  stile,  i 

With  easie  censure  deeme  of  my  delight : 

Giue  sobrest  countenance  leaue  sometime  to  smile, 

And  graucst  wits  to  take  a  breathing  flight : 

Of  mirth  to  make  a  trade,  may  be  a  crime,  5 

But  tyred  spirits  for  mirth  must  hauc  a  time. 

The  loftie  eagle  soares  not  stiU  aboue, 

High  flights  will  force  her  from  the  wing  to  stoupe ; 

And  studious  thoughts  at  times  men  must  remoue. 

Least  by  excesse  before  their  time  they  droupe.         i  o 

In  courser  studies  'tis  a  sweet  repose, 

With  poets  pleasing  vaine  to  temper  prose. 

Profane  conceits  and  faining  fits  I  flie, 

Such  lawlesse  stuffe  doth  lawlesse  speeches  fit : 

With  Dauid,  verse  to  Vertue  I  apply,  1 5 

Whose  measure  best  with  measured  words  doth  lit : 

It  is  the  sweetest  note  that  man  can  sing. 

When  grace  in  Vertue's  key  tunes  Nature's  string. 

'  This  and  the  next  poem  bflong  to  the  whole  vohime,  and 
not  merely  to  St.  Petei-'s  Complaint.    G. 


THE  AVTHOVR  TO  THE  READER. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  i.  line  2,  '  deeme'  is=pronounce  judgment,  as  in  '  deems- 
ter,' Dempster.  '  Deemed'  as  a  participial  is  similarly  used 
in  '  Life  is  but  Losse'  (line  5),  'where  death  is  deemed  gaine,' 
for  adjudged  or  pronounced  '  gain  ;'  at  least  this  gives  a  stronger 
and  better  sense  than  if  it  betaken  as  merely =thought  or  con- 
sidered, or  than  if  '  is  deemed'  be  taken  as  a  verb. 

St.  ii.  line  1,  '  still'  is = constantly,  without  reference,  as  now, 
to  any  particular  moment  of  time.  Such  usfe  was  not  unfre- 
quent  contemporarily. 

St.  ii.  line  4,  Tuenbull  misprints  '  the'  for  '  their,'  and  in 
st.  iii.  line  1,  '  feigned'  for  '  feigning.'  G. 


THE  AVTHOVE  TO  THE  READER.^ 

Deare  eye,  that  day  nest  to  let  fall  a  looke  i 

On  these  sad  memories  of  Peter's  plaints  : 
Muse  not  to  see  some  mud  in  clearest  brooke ; 
They  once  were  brittle  mould  that  now  are  saints. 
Their  weaknesse  is  no  warrant  to  offend  ;  5 

Learne  by  their  faidts  what  in  thine  owne  to  mend. 

If  Equitie's  even-hand  the  ballance  held, 

"Where  Peter's  siunes  and  ours  were  made  the  weiglits, 

Ounce  for  his  dramme,  pound  for  his  ounce  we'd  yield 

His  sliip  would  gronetofeele  some  sinners' freights :  10 

So  ripe  is  Vice,  so  green  is  Vertue's  bud : 

The  world  doth  waxe  in  ill,  but  wane  in  good. 

This  makes  my  mourning  Muse  resolue  in  teares, 
Tliis  thcames  my  heauie  penne  to  plaine  in  prose ; 
Christ's  thorne  is  sharpe,  no  head  His  garland  wcares  ; 
Stil  finest  wits  are  'stilling  Yenvs'  rose,  t6 

In  Paynim  toyes  the  sweetest  vainesare  spent; 
To  Christian  workes  few  haue  their  talents  lent. 

Licence  my  single  penne  to  seeke  a  pheere  ; 

You  heau(Mily  sparkes  of  wit  shew  natiuo  light ;        20 

'  In  1030  iiud  hiU-r  cditious,  nuil  repeated  by  Turnbull, 
this  is  beaded  '  Rvruvs  iid  Eviidcm.'  G. 


10  THE  AVTHOVR  TO  THE  READER. 

Cloud  not  with  mistie  loues  your  orient  cleere, 
Sweet  fliglits  you  shoote,  learne  once  to  leuell  right. 
Fauour  my  wish,  well-wishing  workes  no  ill ; 
I  moue  the  sute,  the  graunt  rests  in  your  Avill. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  ii.  line  1,  Tuknbull  has  'Justice:'  it  is  'Eqwitie's'  in 
1595,  1596  and  1630. 

Lines  1-4.  If  we  read  these  lines  as  punctuated  in  1596  and 
by  Tuknbull,  the  line  '  Ounce yield'  must  be  paren- 
thetical, and  the  sense  and  sentence  ends  at  '  freights.'  But 
{meo  judicio)  this  sense  is  very  like  non-sense,  and  not  in  South- 
well's manner.  The  same  punctuation,  viz.  in  1596,  a  comma 
(,)  after  'held,'  and  colon  (:)  after  '  weights,' and  comma  (,) 
after  '  yeeld,'  and  period  (.)  after  '  freights.'  Or  as  in  Turn- 
bull,  comma  after  '  held'  and  , —  after  '  weights,'  and  , —  after 
'  yield,'  mingles  metaphors,  and  represents  one  end  of  the  bal- 
ance with  its  weights  as  in  St.  Peter's  ship,  which  seems  a 
somewhat  ludicrous  combination ;  and  the  more  so,  that  the 
difference  of  weight  is  given  so  exactly.  But  if  we  end  with 
'  yield'  ( ;  or  even  :),  and  read  '  we'd  yield'  instead  of  '  we  yield,' 
and  then  suppose  that  the  Poet's  remembrance  of  St.  Peter's 
draught  and  exclamation  led  him  on  to  '  His  ship  .  .  .  freights  (:)' 
as  a  second  and  allied  thought,  we  get  clear  sense  and  sent- 
ences, and  a  stanza  after  Southwell's  wont.  I  have  punctuated 
accordingly,  and  read  '  we'd.' 

Line  6.  In  Addl.  mss.  10.422,  for  '  ill'  the  reading  is  'evill,' 
on  which  see  onward  on  the  frequent  occurrence  of  '  evil'  for 
'ill'  and  its  pronunciation  (St.  Peter's  Complaint,  st.  ii.  line  5 : 
relative  note). 

St.  iii.  line  2,  Tuknbull  spoils  the  sense  by  misreading  '  too' 
for  '  to.'  The  reference  in  line  1  is  to  the  Author's  verse,  in 
line  2  to  hisin-ose,  e.g.  his  '  Mary  Magdalen's  Funerall  Teares.' 
'  Theames'^^ gives  a  theme  or  siibject. 

Lines  4-5,  on  a  probable  allusion  to  Shakespeare  here — 
one  of  several — see  our  Memorial-Introduction. 

St.  iv.  line  1,  '  phere'  =  husband  or  companion :  line  4,  Addl. 
MSS.  10.422  reads  '  fleghts  ;'  query  '  arrows'  ?  G. 


SAINT  PETER'S  CO-MPLAINT. 

1. 
Launcu  forth,  iny  soulc,  into  ;i  maine  of  teares, 

Full  fraught  with  griefe,  the  trafficke  of  thy  mind; 
Torn  sailes  will  serue,  thoughts  rent  with  guilty  fcarcs  : 

Giue  Care  the  stcrne,  vse  sighs  in  lieu  of  wind  : 
Remorse,  thy  pilot ;  thy  misdeede  thy  card  ; 
Torment  thy  hauen,  ship  wrack  thy  best  reward. 

II. 
Shun  not  the  shelfe  of  most  deserued  shame  ; 

Sticke  in  the  sands  of  agonizing  dread  ; 
Content  thee  to  be  stormes'  and  hillowes'  game ; 

Diuorct  from  grace,  thy  soule  to  pennanco  wed; 
Fly  not  from  forraine  euils,  fly  from  thy  hart ; 
"Worse  then  the  worst  of  euils  is  that  thou  art. 

in. 
Giue  vent  vnto  the  vapours  of  thy  hrest, 

That  thicken  in  the  brimmes  of  cloudie  eyes ; 
Where  sinne  Avas  liatcht,  let  teares  now  wash  the  nest, 

Where  life  was  lost,  recouer  life  with  cryes. 
Thy  trespassc  foule,  let  not  thy  teares  be  few, 
Baptize  thy  spotted  soule  in  weeping  dew. 


12  SAINT  Peter's  complaint. 

IV. 

Fly  mournfull  plaints,  the  ecchoes  of  my  ruth 

"Whose  screeches  in  my  frighted  conscience  ring ; 

Sob  out  my  sorrowes,  fruites  of  mine  vntruth, 
lieport  the  smart  of  sinne's  infernall  sting  ; 

Tell  hearts  that  languish  in  the  sorriest  plight, 

There  is  on  Earth  a  farre  more  sorry  wight. 

V. 

A  sorrie  wight,  the  object  of  disgrace, 

The  monument  of  feare,  the  map  of  shame, 

The  mirrou.r  of  mishap,  the  staine  of  place, 
The  scorne  of  Time,  the  infamy  of  Fame, 

An  excrement  of  Earth,  to  heauen  hatefuU, 

Iniurious  to  man,  to  God  vngratefuU. 

VI. 

Ambitious  heads,  dreame  you  of  Fortune's  pride, 
Fill  volumes  with  your  forged  goddesse'  prayse ; 

You  Fancie's  drudges,  plung'd  in  Follie's  tide. 
Devote  your  fabling  wits  to  louers'  lays  : 

Be  you,  0  sharpest  griofes  that  euer  wrung. 

Text  to  my  thoughts,  theame  to  my  playning  tung. 

VII. 

Sad  subiect  of  my  sinne  hath  stoard  my  minde, 
With  euerlasting  matter  of  complaint ; 

My  threnes  an  endlesse  alphabet  doe  finde, 
Beyond  the  pangs  AvJiich  leremie  doth  paint. 

That  eyes  with  errors  may  iust  measure  kecpe, 

Most  teares  I  wish,  that  haue  most  cause  to  weepe. 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  13 

VIII. 

All  weeping  eyes  resigne  your  teares  to  me, 
A  sea  will  scantly  rince  my  ordur'd  soiile ; 

Huge  liorours  in  high  tides  must  drowned  be  : 
Of  euery  teare  my  crime  exacteth  tole. 

These  staiiies  are  deepe :  few  drops  take  out  no  such ; 

Euen  salue  with  sore,  and  most  is  not  too  much, 

IX. 

I  fear'd  with  life,  to  die,  by  death  to  Hue ; 

I  left  my  guide,— now  left,  and  leaning  God. 
To  breath  in  blisse,  I  fear'd  my  breath  to  giue ; 

I  fear'd  for  heauenly  raigne  an  earthly  rod. 
These  feares  I  fear'd,  feares  feeling  no  mishaps  : 
0  fond!  0  faint!  O  false!  0  faultie  lapse! 

X. 

How  can  I  Hue,  that  thus  my  Hfe  deni'd  1 

What  can  I  hope,  that  lost  my  hope  in  feare  ? 

What  trust  to  one,  that  Truth  it  selfe  defi'd  ? 

What  good  in  him,  that  did  his  God  forsweare? 

0  sinne  of  sinnes !  of  euils  the  very  worst : 

0  matchlesse  wretch !  O  catilfe  most  accurst ! 

XI. 

Vaine  in  my  vaunts,  I  vowd,  if  friends  had  fail'd, 
Alone  Christ's  hardest  fortunes  to  abide  : 

Giant  in  talke,  Hke  dwarfe  in  triall  quaild  : 
ExcelHng  none,  but  in  vntruth  and  pride. 

Such  distance  is  betweene  high  words  and  deeds  : 

In  proofe,  the  greatest  vaunter  seldome  speeds. 


li  SAINT  Peter's  complaint. 

XII. 

Ah,  rashnes !  liastie  rise  to  murdering  leape, 
Lauisli  in  vowing,  blind  in  seeing  what : 

Scone  sowing  shames  that  long  remorse  must  reape: 
Nursing  with  teares  that  ouer-sight  begat ; 

Scout  of  Repentance,  harbinger  of  blame. 

Treason  to  wisedome,  mother  of  ill  name. 

XIII. 

The  borne-blind  begger,  for  received  sight, 

Fast  in  his  faith  and  loue  to  Christ  remain'd ; 

He  stooped  to  no  feare,  he  fear'd  no  might, 

No  change  his  choice,  no  threats  his  truth  distain'd  : 

One  wonder  wrought  him  in  his  dutie  sure, 

I,  after  thousands,  did  my  Lord  abiure. 

XIV. 

Could  seruile  feare  of  rendring  Nature's  due. 

Which  growth  in  yeeres  was  shortly  like  to  claim  e, 

So  thrall  my  loue,  that  I  should  thus  escliue 
A  vowed  death,  and  misse  so  faire  an  aymc  1 

Die,  die  disloyall  wretch,  thy  life  detest : 

For  sauing  thine,  thou  hast  forsworne  the  best. 

XV. 

Ah,  life !  sweet  drop,  drownd  in  a  sea  of  sowres, 
A  flying  good,  posting  to  doubtfull  end. 

Still  loosing  months  and  yeeres  to  gaine  few  howres : 
Faine,  time  to  haue  and  spare,  yet  forc't  to  spend : 

Thy  growth,  decrease ;  a  moment  all  thou  hast : 

That  gone,  ere  knowne;  the  rest,  to  come,  or  past. 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  15 

XVI. 

Ah,  life !  the  maze  of  countlesse  straying  waies, — 
Open  to  erring  steps  and  strew'd  with  baits,— 

To  winde  weake  senses  into  endlesse  strayes, 

Aloofe  from  Vertue's  rough,  vnbeaten  straights; 

A  flower,  a  play,  a  blast,  a  shade,  a  dreame, 

A  lining  death,  a  never-turning  streame. 

XVII. 

And  could  I  rate  so  high  a  life  so  base  ? 

Did  feare  with  loue  cast  so  vneven  account, 
That  for  this  goale  I  should  runne  ludas'  race. 

And  Caiphas'  rage  in  crueltie  surmount  1 
Yet  they  esteemed  tliirtie  pence  His  price ; 
I,  worse  then  both,  for  nought  denyd  Him  thrice.  Mat.  20. 

XVIII, 

The  mother-sea,  from  ouerflowing  deepes. 

Sends  forth  her  issue  by  diuided  vaines. 
Yet  back  her  ofspring  to  their  mother  creepes. 

To  pay  their  purest  streames  with  added  gaines ; 
But  I,  that  drunke  the  drops  of  heauenly  find, 
Bemyr'd  the  Giuer  with  returning  mud. 

XIX. 

Is  this  the  haruest  of  His  sowing-toy le  1 

Did  Christ  manure  thy  heart  to  breede  Him  briers  1 

Or  doth  it  neede,  this  vnaccustom'd  soyle, 

With  hellish  dung  to  fertile  heauen's  desires  ? 

ISTo,  no,  the  marie  that  periuries  do  yeeld. 

May  spoyle  a  good,  not  fat  a  barraine  field. 


IG  SAINT  Peter's  complaint. 


Was  this  for  best  deserts  the  duest  nieede  1 

Are  highest  worths  well  wag'd  with  spitefull  hire  1 

Are  stoutest  vowes  repeal'd  in  greatest  neede  1 
Should  friendship,  at  the  first  affront,  retire  1 

Blush,  crauen  sot,  lurke  in  eternall  night ; 

Crouch  in  the  darkest  caves  from  loathed  light. 

XXI. 

Mat.  16.  Ah,  wretch !  why  was  I  nam'd  sonne  of  a  done. 

Whose  speeches  voyded  spiglit  and  breathed  gall  ? 
No  kin  I  am  unto  the  bird  of  loue  : 

My  stonie  name  much  better  siites  my  fall  : 
My  othes  were  stones,  my  cruell  tongue  the  sling. 
My  God  the  mark  at  which  my  spight  did  fling. 

XXII. 

Were  all  the  Jewish  tyranies  too  few 

To  glut  thy  hungrie  lookes  with  His  disgrace  1 

That  thou  more  hatefuU  tyrannies  must  shew. 
And  spet  thy  poyson  in  thy  Maker's  face  1 

Didst  thou  to  spare  His  foes  put  vp  thy  sword, 
loiiii  iG.  To  brandish  now  thy  tongue  against  thy  Lord  1 

XXIII. 

Ah  !  tongue,  that  didst  His  prayse  and  Godhead  sound. 
How  wert  thou  stain'd  with  such  detesting  Avords, 

That  euerie  word  was  to  His  heart  a  wound. 

And  launct  Him  deeper  then  a  thousand  swords? 

What  rage  of  man,  yea  what  infernall  spirit, 

Could  haue  disgorg'd  more  loathsome  dregs  of  spite  1 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  17 

XXIV. 

Why  did  the  j'eelding  sea,  like  marble  way,  Mat.  u. 

Support  a  wretch  more  wauering  then  the  wauesl 
Whom  doubt  did  plunge,  why  did  the  waters  stay  1 

Vnkind  in  kindnesse,  murthering  while  it  saues  : 
Oh  that  this  tongue  had  then  been  fishes'  food, 
And  I  deuour'd,  before  this  cursing  mood  ! 

XXV. 

There  surges,  depths  and  seas,  vnfirmo  by  kind, 

Rough  gusts,  and  distance  both  from  ship  and  shoare. 

Were  titles  to  excuse  my  staggering  mind ; 

Stout  feet  might  falter  on  that  liquid  floare  : 

But  heer  no  seas,  no  blasts,  no  billowes  were, 

A  puffe  of  woman's  wind  bred  all  my  feare. 

XXVI. 

0  coward  troups,  far  better  arm'd  then  harted  ! 

Whom  angrie  words,  whom blowescouldnotprouoke;  lohn  is. 
Whom  thogh  I  taught  how  sore  my  weapon  smarted. 

Yet  none  repaide  me  with  a  wounding  stroke. 
Oh  no  !  that  stroke  could  but  one  moity  kill ; 

1  was  reseru'd  both  halfes  at  once  to  spill. 

xxvii. 

Ah  !  whether  was  forgotten  loue  exil'd  ? 

Where  did  the  truth  of  pledged  promise  sleepel 
What  in  my  thoughts  begat  this  vgly  child, 

That  could  through  rented  soule  thus  fiercely  creepe? 
O  viper,  feare  their  death  by  Avhom  thou  liuest; 
All  good  thy  ruine's  wreck,  all  euils  thou  giucst. 


-^g  SAINT  Peter's  complaint. 

XXVIII. 

Threats  threw  me  not,  torments  I  none  assayd  : 

My  fray  Avith  shades ;  conceits  did  make  me  yeeld, 

Wounding  my  thoughts  with  feares  ;  selfely  dismayd, 
I  neither  fought  nor  lost,  I  gaue  the  field  : 

Infamous  foyle  !  a  maiden's  easie  breath 

Did  blow  me  downe,  and  blast  my  soule  to  death. 

XXIX. 

Mat.  16.  Titles  I  make  vntruths  :  am  I  a  rucke, 

That  with  so  soft  a  gale  was  ouerthrowne  ? 
Am  I  fit  pastor  for  the  faithfuU  flocke, 

To  guide  their  soules  that  murdred  thus  mine  owne  1 
Mark  9.  A  rockc  of  ruiue,  not  a  rest  to  stay, 
A  pastor,  not  to  feede  but  to  betray. 

XXX. 

Fidelitie  was  flowne,  when  feare  was  hatched, 

Incompatible  brood  in  Vertue's  neast : 
Courage  can  lesse  with  cowardise  be  matched, 
Prowesse  nor  loue  lodg'd  in  diuided  breast. 
0  Adam's  child,  cast  by  a  sillie  Eue, 
Heire  to  thy  father's  foyles,  and  borne  to  grieue  ! 

XXXI. 

Mat  17   In  Thabor's  ioyes  I  eger  was  to  dwell : 
Mat!  11:        An  earnest  friend  while  pleasures'  light  did  shine, 
But  when  eclipsed  glorie  prostrate  fell, 

These  zealous  heates  to  sleepe  I  did  resigne ; 
And  now,  my  mouth  hath  thrise  His  name  defil'd. 
That  cry'd  so  londe  three  dwellings  there  to  builde. 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  19 

XXXII. 

When  Christ,  attending  the  distressefull  hovver, 

With  His  surchargM  breast  did  blesse  the  ground, 

Prostrate  in  pangs,  rayning  a  bleeding  shower, 
Me,  like  myselfe,  a  drowsie  friend  He  found. 

Thrice,  in  His  care,  sleepe  clos'd  my  carelesse  eye ; 

Presage  how  Him  my  tongue  should  thrise  denie. 

XXXIII. 

Parted  from  Christ,  my  fainting  force  declin'd, 
With  lingring  foot  I  followed  Him  aloofe ; 
Base  feare  out  of  my  hart  His  love  vnshrin'd  :  Mark  u. 

TT  •      1  •    1  11-  •  n  Luke  22. 

Huge  in  high  words,  but  impotent  m  proofe, 
My  vaunts  did  seeme  hatcht  vnder  Sampson's  locks. 
Yet  woman's  words  did  giue  me  murdring  knocks. 

XXXIV. 

So  farre  lukewarm  desires  in  crasie  loue, 

Farre  off,  in  neede  with  feeble  foote  they  traine ; 

In  tydes  they  swim,  low  ebbes  they  scorne  to  proue  ; 
They  seeke  their  frienrls'  delights,  but  shun  their 

Hire  of  a  hireling  minde  is  earned  shame  :  [paine  : 

Take  now  thy  due,  beare  thy  begotten  blame. 

XXXV. 

Ah,  coole  remisnes  !  Virtue's  quartane  feuer, 

Pyning  of  loue,  consumption  of  grace  ; 
Old  in  the  cradle,  languor  dying  euer, 

Soule's  wilfull  famine,  sinne's  soft-stealing  pase ; 
The  vndermining  euill  of  zealous  thought, 
Seeming  to  bring  no  harmes,  till  all  be  brought. 


20  SAINT  Peter's  complaint. 

XXXVI. 

lohn  18.  0  portresse  of  the  doore  of  my  disgrace, 

Whose  tongue  vnlockt  the  truth  of  vowed  minde  ; 
Whose  words  from  coward's  hart  did  courage  chase, 
And  let  in  deathfull  feares  my  soule  to  blinde  ; 
O  hadst  thou  been  the  portresse  to  my  toome. 
When  thou  wert  portresse  to  that  cursed  roome  ! 

XXXVII. 

Yet  loue  was  loath  to  part,  feare  loath  to  die  ; 

Stay,  danger,  life,  did  counterplead  their  causes; 
I,  fauouring  stay  and  life,  bad  danger  flie, 

But  danger  did  except  against  these  clauses  : 
Yet  stay  and  Hue  I  would,  and  danger  shunne, 
And  lost  myseKe  while  I  my  verdict  wonne. 

XXXVIII. 

I  stayde,  yet  did  my  staying  farthest  part ; 

I  liv'd,  but  so,  that  sauing  life,  I  lost  it ; 
Danger  I  shunn'd,  but  to  my  sorer  smart ; 

I  gayned  nought,  but  deeper  damage  crost  it. 
What  danger,  distance,  death,  is  worse  then  his 
That  runnes  from  God  and  spoyles  his  soule  of  blisse  1 

XXXIX. 

lohn  18,  O  lohn,  my  guide  unto  this  earthly  hell, 
Too  well  acquainted  in  so  ill  a  Court, 
(Where  raylmg  mouthes  with  blasphemies  did  swell. 

With  taynted  breath  infecting  all  resort,) 
Why  didst  thou  lead  me  to  this  hell  of  euils. 
To  shew  my  self e  a  fiend  among  the  deuils  ? 


V.  16. 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  21 

XL. 

Euill  president !  the  tyde  that  wafts  to  vice ; 

Dumme  orator,  that  wooes  with  silent  deeds, 
"Writing  in  works  lessons  of  ill  aduise ; 

The  doing-tale  that  eye  in  practise  reedes ; 
Taster  of  ioyes  to  vnacquainted  hunger, 
With  leauen  of  the  old  seasoning  the  younger. 

XLI. 

It  seemes  no  fault  to  doe  that  all  haue  done ; 

The  number  of  offenders  hides  the  sinne  ; 
Coach  drawne  with  many  horse,  doth  easely  runne, 

Soone  followeth  one  where  multitudes  beginne. 
O  had  I  in  that  Court  much  stronger  bin, 
Or  not  so  strong  as  first  to  enter  in. 

XLII. 

Sharpe  was  the  weather  in  that  stormie  place. 
Best  suting  hearts  benumd  with  hellish  frost, 

Whose  crusted  malice  could  admitte  no  grace  : 

Where  coales  were  kindled  to  the  warmers'  cost ; 

Where  feare  my  thoughts  canded  with  ysie  cold, 

Heate  did  my  tongue  to  periuries  vnfold. 

XLIII. 

O  hateful  fire  (ah  !  that  I  euer  saw  it)  ! 

Too  hard  my  hart  was  frozen  for  thy  force  ; 
Farre  hotter  flames  it  did  require  to  thaw  it, 

Thy  hell-resembling  heate  did  freeze  it  worse. 
0  that  I  rather  had  congeal'd  to  yse, 
Then  bought  thy  warmth  at  such  a  damning  price  ! 


22  SAINT  Peter's  compLxMnt. 

XLIV. 

Mat.  26.    0  wakefull  bird  !  proclaimer  of  the  day, 

Mark  H. 

Whose  pearcing  note  doth  daunt  the  lion's  rage ; 
Thy  crowing  did  myselfe  to  me  be\vray, 

My  frights  and  brutish  heates  it  did  asswage  : 
But  0  in  this  alone,  vnhappy  cocke, 
That  thou  to  count  my  foyles  wert  made  the  clocke ! 

XLV. 

O  bird  !  the  iust  rebuker  of  my  crime, 

The  faithfull  waker  of  my  sleeping  feares, 

Be  now  the  daily  clocke  to  strike  the  time, 

Wlien  stinted  eyes  shall  pay  their  taske  of  teares ; 

Vpbraide  mine  eares  with  thine  accusing  crowe, 

To  make  me  rew  that  first  it  made  me  knowe. 

XLVI. 

0  milde  Eeuenger  of  aspiring  pride  ! 

Thou  canst  dismomit  high  thoughts  to  low  effects ; 
Thou  mad'st  a  cocke  me  for  my  fault  to  chide, 

My  lofty  boasts  this  lowely  bird  corrects. 
Well  might  a  cocke  correct  me  with  a  crowe. 
Whom  hennish  cackling  first  did  ouerthrowe. 

XLVII. 

1  Reg.  17.  Weake  weapons  did  Goliah's  fumes  abate. 

Whose  storming  rage  did  thunder  threats  in  vaine ; 
His  bodie  huge,  harnest  with  massie  plate, 

Yet  Dauid's  stone  brought  death  into  his  braine  : 
With  staff  and  sling  as  to  a  dog  he  came. 
And  with  contempt  did  boasting  furie  tame. 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  23 

XLVIII. 

Yet  Dauid  had  with  beare  and  lyon  fought, 

His  skilful  might  excus'd  Goliah's  foile  : 
The  death  is  eas'd  that  worthy  hand  hath  wrought, 

Some  honour  lives  in  honourable  spoyle ; 
But  I,  on  whom  all  infamies  must  light, 
Was  hist  to  death  with  words  of  woman's  spight. 

XLIX. 

Small  gnats  enforst  th'  Egyptian  king  to  stoupe, 

Yet  they  in  swarmes,  and  arm'd  with  pearcing  stings ;  Exod.  8. 

Smart,  noyse,  annoyance,  made  his  courage  droupe ; 
No  small  incombrance  such  small  vermine  brings  : 

I  quaild  at  words  that  neither  bit  nor  stung. 

And  those  deliuered  from  a  woman's  tongue. 

L. 

Ah,  Feare  !  abortiue  impe  of  drouping  mind  ; 

Selfe-ouerthrow,  false  friend,  roote  of  remorse  : 
Sighted,  in  seeing  euils  ;  in  shunning  blind  : 

Foil'd  without  field,  by  fancie  not  by  force ; 
Ague  of  valour ;  phrensie  of  the  wise  ; 
True  honour's  staine  ;  loue's  frost,  the  mint  of  lies. 

LI. 

Can  vertue,  wisdome,  strength,  by  women  spild 

In  Dauid's,  Salomon's,  and  Samson's  falls. 
With  semblance  of  excuse  my  errour  gild, 

Or  lend  a  marble  glosse  to  muddy  walls?  2Rcff.ii. 

O  no  !  their  fault  had  shew  of  some  pretence  :  Ldgf  le!' 

No  veyle  can  hide  the  shame  of  my  offence. 


24  SAINT  Peter's  complaint. 

LII. 

The  blaze  of  beautie's  beames  allur'd  their  lookes  ; 

Their  lookes,  by  seeing  oft,  conceiued  loue  ; 
Loue,  by  affecting,  swallowed  pleasure's  hookes ; 

Thus  beautie,  loue,  and  pleasure  them  did  moue. 
These  Syrens'  sugred  tunes  rockt  them  asleepe  : 
Enough  to  damne,  yet  not  to  damne  so  deepe. 

LIII. 

But  gracious  features  dazled  not  mine  eyes ; 

Two  homely  droyles  were  authors  of  my  death  ; 
Not  loue,  but  feare,  my  senses  did  surprize  : 

Not  feare  of  force,  but  feare  of  woman's- breath ; 
And  those  vnarm'd,  ill  grac't,  despis'd,  vnknowne  : 
So  base  a  blast  my  truth  hath  ouerthrowne. 

LIV. 

O  women  !  woe  to  men  ;  traps  for  their  falls  ; 

Still  actors  in  all  tragicall  mischances ; 
Earth's  necessarie  euils,  captiuing  thralls,        [glances ; 

Now  murdring  with  your  toungs,  now  with  your 
Parents  of  life,  and  loue,  spoylers  of  both. 
The  theeues  of  harts  ;  false  do  you  lone  or  loth. 

LV. 

In  time,  0  Lord  !  Thine  eyes  with  mine  did  meete, 
Luke  22.         In  them  I  read  the  mines  of  my  fall ; 

Their  chearing  rayes,  that  made  misfortune  sweet. 
Into  my  guiltie  thoughts  pourd  floods  of  gall : 
Their  heauenly  looks,  that  blest  where  they  beheld, 
Darts  of  disdaine  and  angrie  checks  did  yeeld. 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  25 


LVI. 


0  sacred  eyes  !  the  springs  of  lining  light, 

The  earthly  heauens  where  angels  ioy  to  dwell, 

How  could  you  deigne  to  view  my  deathfull  plight, 
Or  let  your  heauenly  beanies  look  on  my  hell  t 

But  those  vnspotted  eyes  encountred  mine. 

As  spotlesse  sunne  doth  on  the  dunghil  shine. 

LVII. 

Sweet  volumes,  stoard  with  learning  fit  for  saints, 
Where  blissfull  quires  imparadize  their  minds; 

Wherein  eternall  studie  neuer  faints. 

Still  finding  all,  yet  seeking  all  it  finds  : 

How  endlesse  is  your  labyrinth  of  blisse, 

^VTiere  to  be  lost  the  sweetest  finding  is ! 

LVIII. 

Ah  wretch  !  how  oft  haue  I  sweet  lessons  read 
In  those  deare  eyes,  the  registers  of  truth  ! 

How  oft  haue  I  my  hungrie  wishes  fed. 

And  in  their  happy  ioyes  redrest  my  rutli  ! 

Ah  !  that  they  now  are  heralds  of  disdaine, 

That  erst  were  euer  pittiers  of  my  paino  ! 

LIX. 

You  flames  diuine,  tliat  sparkle  out  your  heats, 
And  kindle  pleasing  fires  in  mortall  harts  ; 

You  nectar'd  aumbryes  of  soule-feeding  meates ; 
You  gracefull  quiuers  of  loiie's  dearest  darts  ; 

You  did  vouchsafe  to  Avarme,  to  wound,  to  feast. 

My  cold,  my  stony,  my  noAv  famisht  breast. 

E 


26  SAINT  petek's  complaint. 


LX. 


Tlie  matchlesse  eyes,  matcht  onely  each  by  other, 
Were  pleas'd  on  my  ill  matched  eyes  to  glaimce ; 

The  eye  of  liquid  pearle,  the  purest  mother, 

Broach't  teares  in  mine  to  weepe  for  my  mischance; 

The  cabinets  of  grace  vnlockt  their  treasure, 

And  did  to  my  misdeed  their  mercies  measure. 

LXI. 

These  blazing  comets,  light'ning  flames  of  loue, 
Made  me  their  warming  influence  to  knowe  ; 

My  frozen  hart  their  sacred  force  did  proue. 

Which  at  their  looks  did  yeeld  like  melting  snowe : 

They  did  not  ioyes  in  former  plentie  carue. 

Yet  sweet  are  crums  where  pined  thoughts  doe  starue. 

LXII. 

0  lining  mirrours  !  seeing  Whom  you  shew, 

Which  equal  shadows  worths  with  shadowed  things, 
Yea,  make  things  nobler  tlien  in  natiue  hew, 

By  being  shap't  in  those  life-giuing  springs ; 
Much  more  my  image  in  those  eyes  was  grac't, 
Then  in  myselfe,  whom  sinne  and  shame  defac't. 

Lxin. 
All-seeing  eyes,  more  worth  then  all  you  see, 

Of  which  one  is  the  other's  onely  price ; 

1  worthlesse  am,  direct  your  beames  on  mee. 

With  quickning  vertue  cure  my  killing  vice. 
By  seeing  things,  you  make  things  worth  the  sight, 
You  seeing,  salue,  and  being  seene,  delight  ! 


y.  3. 


SAINT  feter's  complaint.  27 

LXIV. 

O  pooles  of  Hesebon  ;  the  baths  of  grace, 

Where  happie  spirits  cliue  in  sweet  desires,  cant.  7, 

Where  saints  reioyce  to  glasse  their  glorious  face. 

Whose  banks  make  eccho  to  the  angels'  quires ; 
An  eccho  sweeter  in  the  sole  rebound, 
Then  angels'  musick  in  the  fullest  sound  ! 

LXV. 

O  eyes  !  whose  glaunces  are  a  silent  speach. 
In  cipherd  words  high  mysteries  disclosing ; 

Which,  with  a  looke,  all  sciences  can  teach, 

Whose  textes  to  faithfuU  harts  need  little  glosing ; 

Witnesse  vnworthie  I,  who  in  a  looke 

Learn'd  more  by  rote,  then  all  the  Scribes  by  book. 

LXVI. 

Though  malice  still  possest  their  hardned  minds, 
I,  though  too  hard,  learn'd  softnes  in  Thine  eye, 

Which  yron  knots  of  stubborne  will  vnbinds, 

Oflfring  them  loue,  that  loue  with  loue  wil  buy. 

This  did  I  learne,  yet  they  could  not  discerne  it ; 

But  woe,  that  I  had  now  such  neede  to  learne  it ! 

LXVII. 

0  suunes  !  all  but  youi'selues  in  Hght  excelling, 

Whose  presence,  day,  whose  absence  causeth  night ; 

Whose  neighbour-course  brings  Sommer,  cold  expelling. 
Whose  distant  periods  freeze  away  delight. 

Ah !  that  I  lost  your  bright  and  fostring  beames, 

To  plung  my  soule  in  these  congealed  streames  ! 


28  SAINT  Peter's  complaint. 

LXVIII. 

O  gratious  spheres  !  where  loue  the  center  is, 
A  natiue  place  for  our  selfe-loaden  soules ; 

The  couipasse,  loue, — a  cope  that  none  can  mis, 
The  motion,  loue, — that  round  about  vs  rowles : 

0  spheres  of  loue,  whose  center,  cope,  and  motion. 

Is  loue  of  us,  loue  that  inuites  deuotion  ! 

LXIX. 

0  little  worlds  !  the  summes  of  all  the  best, 

Where glorie,  heauen;  God,sunne;  allvertues,  stars; 
Where  fire, — a  loue  that  next  to  heauen  doth  rest ; 

Ayre, — light  of  life  that  no  distemper  marres ; 
The  water,  — grace,  whose  seas,  whose  springs,  whose 
Cloth  Nature's  earth  with  euerlasting  flowers,    [showers, 

LXX. 

What  mixtures  these  sweet  elements  do  yeeld, 

Let  happie  worldlings  of  these  worlds  expound ; 
Best  simples  are  by  compounds  farre  exceld, 

Both  sute  a  place  where  all  best  things  abound ; 
And  if  a  banisht  wretch  ghesse  not  amisse. 
All  but  one  compound  frame  of  perfect  blisse  ! 

LXXI. 

I,  out-cast  from  these  worlds,  exUM  rome ; 

Poore  saint,  from  heauen,  from  tire,  cold  salamander. 
Lost  fish,  from  those  sweet  waters'  kindly  home, 

From  land  of  life  stray'd  pilgrim  still  I  Avander. 

1  know  the  cause  :  these  worlds  had  neuer  hell. 
In  which  my  faults  haue  liest  deseru'd  to  dwell. 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  29 

LXXII. 

0  Betlielem-cestems  !  Dauid's  most  desire,  2neg.2a. 

From  which  my  sinnes  like  fierce  Philistims  keep  ; 
To  fetch  your  drops  what  champion  should  I  hire, 
That  I  therein  my  Avithered  hart  may  steepe  1 

1  would  not  shed  them  like  that  holy  king  : 
His  were  but  types,  these  are  the  figured  thing. 

LXXIII. 

O  turtle-twins  !  all  bath'd  in  virgins  milke,  ^ant  5  v 

Vpon  the  margin  of  full-flowing  banks,  "'  ^^• 

Whose  gracefidl  plume  surmounts  the  finest  silke, 
Whose  sight  enamoureth  heauen's  most  happy  ranks  : 

Could  I  forsweare  this  heauenly  payre  of  doues, 

That  cag'd  in  care,  for  me  were  groning  loues ! 

LXXIV. 

Twise  Moses'  wand  did  strike  the  stubborne  rock,  ^^^  j^ 

Ere  stony  veynes  would  yeeld  their  crystall  blood;   ■''•*^- 

Thine  eyes'  one  looke  seru'd  as  an  onely  knocke. 
To  make  my  hart  gush  out  a  weeping  flood ; 

"Wlierein  my  sinnes,  as  fishes,  spawne  their  frie, 

To  shew  their  inward  shames,  and  then  to  die. 

LXXV.  • 

But  0  how  long  demurre  I  on  His  eyes  ! 

Whose  look  did  pearce  my  hart  with  healing  wound, 
Launcing  imposthumd  sore  of  periur'd  lyes, 

Which  these  two  issues  of  mine  eyes  have  found ; 
Where  rimne  it  must,  till  death  the  issues  stop, 
iVnd  penall  life  hath  piu-g'd  the  finall  drop. 


30  SAINT  Peter's  complaint. 

LXXVI. 

Like  solest  swan,  that  swims  in  silent  deepe, 
And  neuer  sings  but  obsequies  of  death  ; 

Sigh  'out  thy  plaints,  and  sole  in  secret  weepe, 
In  suing  pardon,  spend  thy  periur'd  breath ; 

Attire  thy  soul  in  sorrowe's  mourning  weede, 

And  at  thine  eyes  let  guiltie  conscience  bleede. 

LXXVII. 

'Still  in  the  limbecke  of  thy  dolefull  brest 

These  bitter  fruits  that  from  thy  sinnes  doe  grow; 

For  fuell,  selfe-accusing  thoughts  be  best ; 

Vse  feare  as  fire,  the  coals  let  penance  blow ; 

And  seeke  none  other  quintessence  but  teares, 

That  eyes  may  shed  what  entred  at  thine  eares. 

LXXVIII. 

Come  sorrowing  teares,  the  ofspring  of  my  griefe, 
Scant  not  your  parent  of  a  needfull  ayde ; 

In  you  I  rest  the  hope  of  wisht  rehefe, 

By  you  my  sinnefuU  debts  must  be  defrayd  : 

Your  power  preuailes,  your  sacrifice  is  gratefidl. 

By  loue  obtaining  life  to  men  most  hatefull. 

LXXIX. 

Come  good  effects  of  iU-deseruing  cause. 

Ill-gotten  imi^es,  yet  vertuously  brought  forth  ; 

Selfe-blaming  probates  of  infringed  lawes, 

Yet  blamed  faults  redeeming  with  your  worth; 

The  signes  of  shame  in  you  each  eye  may  read, 

Yet,  while  you  guiltie  proue,  you  pittie  plead. 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  31 

LXXX. 

0  beames  of  mercie  !  beate  on  sorrowe's  clowd, 

Poure  suppling  showres  vpon  my  parched  ground; 

Bring  forth,  the  fruite  to  your  due  seruice  vowde, 
Let  good  desires  with  like  deserts  be  crownd  : 

Water  young  blooming  Vertue's  tender  flower, 

Sinne  did  all  grace  of  riper  growth  deuoure. 

LXXXI. 

Weepe  balme  and  myrrhe,  you  sweet  Arabian  trees, 
With  purest  gummes  perfume  and  pearle  your  ryne  ; 

Shed  on  your  honey-drops,  you  busie  bees ; 

I,  barraine  plant,  must  weepe  vnpleasant  bryne, 

Hornets  I  hyue,  salt  drops  their  labour  plyes, 

Suckt  out  of  sinne,  and  shed  by  showring  eyes, 

LXXXII. 

If  Dauid,  night  by  night,  did  bathe  his  bed. 
Esteeming  longest  dayes  too  short  to  mone ; 

Inconsolable  teares  if  Anna  shed, 

Who  in  her  sonne  her  solace  had  forgone ; 

Then  I  to  dayes  and  weekes,  to  monthes  and  yeeres, 

Do  owe  the  hourely  rent  of  stintless  teares. 

LXXXIII. 

If  loue,  if  losse,  if  fault,  if  spotted  fame. 

If  danger,  death,  if  wrath,  or  wreck  of  weale, 

Entitle  eyes  true  heyres  to  earned  blame, 
That  due  remorse  in  such  euents  conceale 

Then  want  of  teares  might  well  enroll  my  name, 

As  chiefest  saint  in  calender  of  shame. 


Ps.  6,  V.7. 


32  SAINT  Peter's  complaint. 

LXXXIV. 

Loue,  where  I  lou'd,  Avas  due,  and  best  deseru'd ; 

No  loue  could  aynie  at  more  loue- worthy  niarke ; 
IS'o  loue  more  lou'd  then  mine  of  Hhn  I  seru'd ; 

Large  vse  He  gaue,  a  flame  for  euerie  sparke. 
This  loue  I  lost,  this  losse  a  life  must  rue ; 
Yea,  life  is  short  to  pay  the  ruth  is  due. 

LXXXV. 

I  lost  all  that  I  had,  who  had  the  most, 

The  most  that  will  can  wish,  or  wit  deuise  : 

I  least  perform'd,  that  did  most  vainely  boast, 
I  staynd  my  fame  in  most  infamous  wise. 

What  danger  then,  death,  Avrath,  or  wreck  can  moue 

More  pregnant  cause  of  teares  tlien  this  I  proue  1 

LXXXVI. 

G«n.  3,v.  7.  If  Adam  sought  a  veyle  to  scarfe  liis  sinne, 

Taught  by  his  fall  to  feare  a  scourging  hand ; 
If  men  shall  wish  that  hils  should  wrap  them  in. 

When  crimes  in  finall  doome  come  to  be  scand ; 
Wliat  mount,  what  caue,  what  center  can  conceale 
]\Iy  monstrous  fact,  which  euen  the  birds  reueale  ? 

LXXXVII. 

Come  shame,  the  liuerie  of  offending  minde. 

The  vgly  shroude  that  ouershadoweth  blame  ; 

The  mulct  at  which  foule  faults  are  iustly  fin'd  ; 
The  dampe  of  sinne,  the  common  sluce  of  fame. 

By  which  iniposthum'd  tongues  their  humours  purge  ; 

Light  shame  on  me,  I  best  deserue  the  scourge. 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  33 

LXXXVIII. 

Caine's  murdering  liand  imbrudc  in  brother's  blood,       <!<'ii.  4. 

More  mercy  then  my  im])ious  tongue  may  craue ; 
He  kild  a  riuall  with  pretence  of  good, 

In  hope  God's  doubled  lone  alone  to  haue. 
But  feare  so  spoyld  my  vanquisht  thoughts  of  louo, 
That  periurde  oathes  my  spightfull  hate  did  prone. 

LXXXIX. 

Poore  Agar  from  her  pheere  enforc't  to  flye, 

Wandring  in  Bersabeian  wildes  alone. 
Doubting  her  child  throgh  helj)les  drought  would  die, 

Layd  it  aloofe,  and  set  her  downe  to  moane  : 
The  heauens  with  prayers,  her  lap  with  teares  she  fild  ; 
A  mother's  loue  in  losse  is  hardly  stild. 

xc. 
But  Agar,  now  bequeath  thy  teares  to  me  ; 

Feares,  not  effects,  did  set  afloate  thine  eyes.  cion.  2-.>. 

But,  wretch,  I  feele  more  then  was  feard  of  thee  ; 

Ah !  not  my  sonne,  my  soule  it  is  that  dyes. 
It  dyes  for  drought,  yet  hath  a  spring  in  sight  : 
Worthie  to  die,  that  would  not  line,  and  might. 

xci. 
Faire  Absalon's  foule  faults,  compar'd  with  mine,  2  ncs.  1 : 

Are  brightest  sands  to  mud  of  Sodome  Lakes  ; 
High  aymes,  yong  spirits,  birth  of  royall  line. 

Made  him  play  false  where  kingdoms  were  the  stakes : 
He  gaz'd  on  golden  hopes,  whose  lustre  winnes, 
Sometime  the  grauest  wits  to  greeuous  sinnes. 


34  SAINT  PETERS  COMPLAINT. 

XCII. 

But  I,  whose  crime  cuts  off  the  least  excuse, 
A  l^ingdome  lost,  but  hop't  no  mite  of  gaine  ; 

My  highest  marke  was  but  the  wortlxlesse  vse 
Of  some  few  lingring  howres  of  longer  paine. 

Vngratefull  child,  his  parent  he  pursude, 

I,  gyants'  warre  with  God  Himselfe  renude. 

XCIII. 

Mat.  22.  loy,  infant  saints,  whom  in  the  tender  flower 

A  happie  storm  did  free  from  feare  of  sinne  ! 
Long  is  their  life  that  die  in  bhsfull  hower ; 

loyfull  such  ends  as  endlesse  ioyes  begin  : 
Too  long  they  Hue  that  Hue  till  they  be  nought : 
Life  sau'd  by  sinne,  base  purchase  dearely  bought ! 

xciv. 
This  lot  was  mine ;  your  fate  was  not  so  fearce. 

Whom  spotlesse  death  in  cradle  rockt  asleepe ; 
Sweet  roses,  mixt  with  lilies,  strow'd  your  hearce. 

Death  virgin-white  in  martyrs'  red  did  steepe  ; 
Your  downy  heads,  both  pearles  and  rubies  crownd 
My  boarie  locks,  did  female  feares  confound. 

xcv. 
You  bleating  ewes,— that  wayle  this  woluish  spoyle 

Of  sucking  lambs  new-bought  with  bitter  throwes,— 
T'  inbalme  your  babes  your  eyes  distill  their  oyle, 

Each  hart  to  tombe  her  child  wide  rupture  showes 
Itue  not  their  death,  whom  death  did  but  reuiut>,, 
Yeeld  ruth  to  me  that  liu'd  to  die  aliue. 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  35 

xcvi. 
With  easie  losse  sharpe  wrecks  did  he  escliew, 

That  sindonlesso  aside  did  naked  slip : 
Once  naked  grace  no  outward  garment  knew ; 

Eiche  are  his  robes  whom  sinne  did  neuer  strip. 
1,  that  in  vaunts,  displaid  Pride's  fayrest  flags, 
Disrob'd  of  grace,  am  wrapp'd  in  Adam's  rags. 

XCVII. 

When,  traytor  to  the  Sonne  in  mother's  eyes 
I  shall  present  my  humble  sute  for  grace, 

Wliat  blush  can  paint  the  shame  that  will  arise, 
Or  write  my  inward  feelings  on  my  face  ? 

Might  she  the  sorrow  with  the  sinner  see, 

Though  I  despisde,  my  griefe  might  pittied  bee  ! 

XCVIII. 

But  ah !  how  can  her  eares  my  speech  endure. 

Or  sent  my  breath,  still  reeking  hellish  steeme  1 

Can  Mother  like  what  did  the  Sonne  abiure, 
Or  hart  deflowr'd  a  virgin's  love  redeeme  ? 

The  mother  nothing  loues  that  Sonne  doth  loath  : 

Ah,  lothsome  wretch !  detested  of  them  both. 

xcix. 
0  sister  nymphes,  the  sweet  renowned  payre. 

That  blesse  Bethania  bounds,  with  your  aboade  ! 
Shall  I  infect  that  sanctifikl  ayre, 

Or  staine  those  steps  where  lesus  breath'd  and  trode? 
No ;  let  your  prayers  perfume  that  sweetned  place  ; 
Turne  me  with  tygers  to  the  wildest  chase. 


36  SAINT  PETER'ii  COMPLAINT. 

C. 

loim  11.  Could  I  reuiued  Lazarus  behold, 

The  third  orf  that  sweet  trinitie  of  saints, 
Would  not  astonisht  dread  my  senses  hold  1 

Ah  yes !  my  hart  euen  with  his  naming,  faints  : 
I  seeme  to  see  a  messenger  from  hell, 
That  my  prepared  torments  comes  to  tell. 

CI. 

Mat.  16.  0  John !  0  James !  wee  made  a  triple  cord 

Of  three  most  loumg  and  best  loucd  friends  ; 
My  rotten  twist  was  broken  with  a  word, 
Fit  now  to  fuell  fire  among  the  fiends. 
It  is  not  euer  true  though  often  spoken. 
That  triple-twisted  cord  is  hardly  broken. 

CII. 

The  dispossessed  devils,  that  out  I  threw 

In  Jesvs'  name, — now  impiously  forsworne, — 

Triumph  to  see  me  caged  in  their  mew. 

Trampling  my  mines  with  contempt  and  scorne  : 

My  periuries  were  musick  to  their  daunce, 

And  now  they  heape  disdaines  on  my  mischaunce. 

cm. 
Our  rocke  (say  they)  is  riuen  ;  0  welcome  howre  ! 

Our  eagle's  wings  are  dipt  that  wrought  so  hie ;  raught 
Our  thundring  cloude  made  noyse,  but  cast  no  showre  : 

He  prostrate  lyes  that  would  hane  scal'd  the  skio; 
In  woman's  tongue  our  runner  found  a  rub. 
Our  cedar  now  is  shrunke  into  a  shrub. 


SAINT  PETER  S  COMPLAINT.  37 

CIV. 

These  scornefuU  words  vpbraid  my  inward  thought, 
Proofes  of  their  damned  prompters'  neighbour-voice  : 

Such  vgly  guests  still  wait  vpon  the  nought : 

Fiends  swarm  to  soules  that  swaruc  from  Vertue's 

For  breach  of  plighted  truth  this  true  I  trie ;     [choise : 

Ah,  that  my  deed  thus  gaue  my  word  the  lie ! 

cv. 
Once,  and  but  once,  too  deare  a  once  to  twice  it ! 

A  heauen  in  earth,  saints  neere  myselfe  I  saw  : 
Sweet  was  the  sight,  but  sweeter  loues  did  spice  it, 

But  sights  and  loues  did  my  misdeed  withdraw. 
From  heauen  and  saints,  to  hell  and  deuils  estrang'd, 
Those  sights  to  frights,  those  loues  to  hates  are  chang'd. 

cvi. 
Christ,  as  my  God,  was  templed  in  my  thought. 

As  man,  He  lent  mine  eyes  their  dearest  light ; 
But  sinne  His  temple  hath  to  ruine  brought. 

And  now  He  lighteneth  terrour  from  His  sight. 
Now  of  my  lay  vnconsecrate  desires. 
Profaned  wretch  !  I  taste  the  earnest  hires. 

cvii. 
Ah,  sinne  !  the  nothing  that  doth  all  things  file,     defile 

Outcast  from  heauen,  Earth's  curse,  the  cause  of  hell; 
Parent  of  death,  author  of  our  exile. 

The  Avrecke  of  soules,  the  wares  that  fiends  doe  sell ; 
That  men  to  monsters,  angels  turnes  to  deuils, 
Wrong  of  all  rights,  self-ruine,  roote  of  euils. 


38  SAINT  Peter's  complaint. 

CVIII. 

A  thing  most  done,  yet  more  then  God  can  doe  ; 

Daily  new  done,  yet  euer  done  amisse ; 
Friended  of  all,  yet  nnto  all  a  foe ; 

Seeming  a  lieauen,  yet  banishing  from  blisse ; 
Serued  with  toyl,  yet  paying  nought  but  paine, 
Man's  deepest  losse,  though  false-esteemed  gaine. 

cix. 

Shot,  without  noyse  ;  wound,  without  present  smart ; 

First,  seeming  light,  prouing  in  fine  a  lode ; 
Entring  with  ease,  not  easily  wonne  to  part. 

Far,  in  effects  from  that  the  showes  abode  ; 
Endorct  with  hope,  subscribed  with  despaire, 
Vgly  in  death,  though  life  did  faine  it  faire. 

ex. 
0,  forfeiture  of  heauen  !  eternall  debt, 

A  moment's  ioy  ending  in  endlesse  fires ; 
Our  nature's  scum,  the  world's  entangling  net, 

Night  of  our  thoughts,  death  of  all  good  desires  : 
Worse  then  al  this,  worse  then  all  tongues  can  say ; 
Which  man  could  owe,  but  onely  God  defray. 

CXI. 

This  fawning  viper,  dum  till  he  had  wounded, 

With  many  mouthes  doth  now  vpbraid  my  harnies  ; 

My  sight  Avas  vaild  till  I  myselfe  confounded. 
Then  did  I  see  the  disinchanted  charmes  : 

Then  could  I  cut  th'  anatomic  of  sinne. 

And  search  with  linxes'  eyes  what  lay  within. 


8AINT  Peter's  complaint.  39 

ex  1 1. 
Bewitcliing  euill,  that  liides  deatli  in  deceits, 

Still  borrowing  lying  shapes  to  maskc  thy  face, 
Now  know  I  the  deciphring  of  thy  sleights ; 

A  cunning,  dearely  bought  with  losse  of  grace  : 
Thy  sugred  poyson  now  hath  wrought  so  well. 
That  thou  hast  made  me  to  myselfe  a  hell. 

CXIII. 

My  eye,  reades  mournfull  lessons  to  my  hart. 

My  hart,  doth  to  my  thought  the  greefes  expound ; 
My  thought,  the  same  doth  to  my  tongue  impart, 

My  tongue,  the  message  in  the  eares  doth  sound  ; 
My  eares,  back  to  my  hart  their  sorrowes  send ; 
Thus  circling  griefes  runne  round  without  an  end. 

cxiv. 
My  guiltie  eye  still  seemes  to  see  my  sinne. 

All  things  characters  are  to  spell  my  fall ; 
What  eye  doth  read  without,  hart  rues  within, 

What  hart  doth  rue,  to  pensiue  thought  is  gall. 
Which  when  the  thought  would  by  the  tongue  digest, 
The  eare  conueyes  it  backe  into  the  brest. 

cxv. 
Thus  gripes  in  all  my  parts  doe  neuer  fayle, 

Whose  onely  league  is  now  in  bartring  paines  ; 
What  I  ingrosse  they  traffique  by  retayle. 

Making  each  others'  miseries  theu'  gaines  : 
All  bound  for  euer  prentices  to  care. 
Whilst  I  in  shop  of  shame  trade  sorrowe's  ware. 


40  SAINT  PETEU'S  COMPLAIKT. 

CXVI. 

Pleasd  with  displeasing  lot,  I  seek  no  change  ; 

I  wealthiest  am  when  richest  in  remorse  ; 
To  fetch  my  ware  no  seas  nor  lands  I  range ; 

For  customers  to  buy  I  nothing  force  : 
My  home-bred  goods  at  home  are  bought  and  sold, 
And  still  in  me  my  interest  I  hold. 

CXVII. 

My  comfort  now  is  comfortlesse  to  Hue 

In  orphan  state,  denoted  to  mishap  : 
Eent  from  the  roote  that  sweetest  fruite  did  giue, 

1  scorn'd  to  graffe  in  stock  of  meaner  sap  ; 
No  iuyce  can  ioy  me  but  of  lesse  floAver, 
Whose  heavenly  roote  hath  true  reuiuing  power. 

CXVIII. 

At  Sorrowe's  dore  I  knockt :  they  crau'd  my  name  : 

I  aunswered,  one  unworthy  to  be  knowne  : 
What  one  1  say  they.     One  worthiest  of  blame. 

But  who  1  A  wretch,  not  God's,  nor  yet  his  oAvne. 
A  man  1  O  no  !  a  beast ;  much  worse  :  what  creature  1 
A  rocke  :  how  call'd  ?     The  rocke  of  scandale,  Peter  ! 

cxix.  [there  ? 

From  whence  1   From  Caiaphas'  house.    Ah  !  dwell  you 

Sinne's  farme  I  rented  there,  bvit  now  would  leaue  it. 
Wliat  rent  1   My  soule.  What  gaine  1  Vnrest,  and  feare. 

Deare  purchase  !  Ah,  too  dear  !  will  you  receiue  it? 
What  shall  we  giue  1  Fit  teares  and  times  to  plaine  mee : 
Come  in,  say  they  :  Thus  Griefes  did  entertaine  me. 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  41 

cxx. 
With  them  I  rest  true  prisoner  in  their  layle, 

Cliayn'd  in  the  yron  linkes  of  basest  thrall ; 
Till  (Irace,  vouchsafing  captiue  soule  to  bayle, 

In  wonted  See  degraded  loues  enstall. 
Dayes  pass  in  plaints,  the  night  without  repose ; 
I  wake  to  weepe,  I  sleepe  in  waking-woes. 

cxxi. 
Sleepe,  Death's  allye,  obliuion  of  teares, 

Silence  of  passions,  balme  of  angry  sore, 
Suspence  of  loues,  securitie  of  feares, 

Wrath's  lenitue, heart's  ease,  storme's  calmest  shore; 
Senses'  and  soules'  reprieuall  from  all  cumbers, 
Benumning  sense  of  ill,  with  quiet  slumbers  ! 


CXXII. 

Not  such  my  sleepe,  but  whisperer  of  dreames. 
Creating  strange  chymeras,  fayning  frights  ; 

Of  day-discourses  giuing  fansie  theames, 

To  make  dum-shewes  with  worlds  of  anticke  sights; 

Casting  true  griefes  in  fansie's  forging  mold, 

Brokenly  telling  tales  rightly  foretold. 

CXXIII. 

This  sleepe  most  fitly  suteth  Sorrowe's  bed. 

Sorrow,  the  smart  of  euill,  Sinne's  eldest  child ; 

Best,  when  vnkind  in  killing  who  it  bred ; 
A  racke  for  guiltie  thoughts,  a  bit  for  Avild ; 

The  scourge  that  whips,  the  salue  that  cures  offence : 

Sorrow,  my  bed  and  home,  while  life  hath  sense. 

Ct 


42  SAINT  Peter's  complaint. 

cxxiv. 
Here  solitarie  Muses  nurse  my  griefes, 

In  silent  lonenesse  burying  worldly  noyse ; 
Attentiue  to  rebukes,  deafe  to  reliefes, 

Pensiue  to  foster  cares,  carelesse  of  ioyes  ; 
Euing  life's  losse,  vnder  death's  dreary  roofes 
Solemnizing  my  funerall  behoofes. 

cxxv. 
A  selfe-contempt  the  shroude,  my  soule  the  corse. 

The  beere,  an  humble  hojie,  the  herse-cloth,  feare  ; 
The  mourners,  thoughts,  in  blacks  of  deepe  remorse. 

The  herse,  grace,  pitie,  loue  and  mercie  beare  : 
My  teares,  my  dole,  the  priest,  a  zealous  will, 
Penance,  the  tombe,  and  dolefull  sighes  the  knill. 

cxxvi. 
Christ !  health  of  feuer'd  soule,  heauen  of  the  mind. 

Force  of  the  feeble,  nurse  of  infant  loues. 
Guide  to  the  wandring  foote,  light  to  the  blind, 

Whom  weeping  winnes,  repentant  sorrow  moues  ; 
Father  in  care,  mother  in  tender  hart, 
Keuiue  and  saue  me,  slaine  with  sinnefull  dart ! 

CXXVII. 

If  King  Manasses,  sunke  in  depth  of  sinne, 

AVith  plaints  and  teares  recouered  grace  and  crowne : 

A  worthless  worme  some  mild  regard  may  winne, 
And  lowly  creepe,  where  flying  threw  it  downe. 

A  poore  desire  I  haue  to  mend  my  ill, 

1  sliould,  I  would,  I  dare  not  say,  I  will. 


SAINT  PETER'8  COMPLAINT.  43 

CXXVIII. 

I  dare  not  say,  I  will,  but  wish  I  may; 

My  pride  is  checkt,  high  words  the  speaker  spilt. 
My  good,  0  Lord,  Thy  gift.  Thy  strength  my  stay  ! 

Give  what  Thou  bidst,  and  then  bid  what  Thou  wilt. 
Worke  with  me  what  Thou  of  me  doos't  request, 
Then  will  I  dare  the  most  and  vow  the  best. 

cxxix. 
Prone  looke,  crost  armes,  bent  knee  and  contrite  hart, 

Deepe  sighs,  thick  sobs,  dew'd  eyes  and  prostrate 
Most  humbly  beg  release  of  earned  smart,         [prayers, 

And  sauiug  shroud  in  Mercie's  sweet  repaires. 
If  iustice  should  my  wrongs  with  rigor  wage, 
Feares  Avould  despaires,  ruth,  breed  a  hopelesse  rage. 

cxxx. 
Lazar  at  Pitie's  gate  I  vlcer'd  lye, 

Craning  the  reffuse  crums  of  childrens'  plate ; 
My  sores  I  lay  in  view  to  Mercie's  eye, 

My  rags  beares  witnes  of  my  poore  estate  : 
The  wormes  of  conscience  that  within  me  swarme, 
Prone  that  my  plaints  are  lesse  then  is  my  harme. 

cxxxi. 
With  mildnes,  lesu,  measure  mine  offence ; 

Let  true  remorse  Thy  due  reuenge  abate ; 
Let  teares  appease  when  trespasse  doth  incense ; 

Let  pittie  temper  Thy  deserued  hate ; 
Let  grace  forgiue,  let  loue  forget  my  fall  : 
With  feare  I  craue,  with  hope  I  humblie  call. 


44  SAINT  Peter's  complaint. 

CXXXII. 

Eedeeme  my  lapse  with  raunsome  of  Thy  loue, 
Traiierse  th'  inditenient,  rigor's  doome  suspend ; 

Let  frailtie  fauour,  sorrowes  succour  moue, 

Be  I'Jiou  Thyselfe,  though  changeling  I  oflfend. 

Tender  my  sute,  cleanse  this  defiled  denne, 

Cancell  my  debts,  sweet  lesu,  say  Amen ! 

The  ende  of  Saint  Peter's  Complaint. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  i.  line  1,  maine  =  sea.  Addl.  ms.  10.422  spells  'maigue.' 
Line  4.  Turnbdll  modernises  '  in  lieu'  into  '  instead.' 
,,  5.  Card.  Some  have  said  that  the  '  card'  or  carta  is  a 
chart,  others  that  it  is  the  '  card'  of  the  mariner's  compass, 
and  hence  piit  for  the  comiiass  itself.  While,  however,  the 
former  sense,  or  rather  that  of  map,  is  the  more  usual,  there 
are  passages  which  demand  some  one,  and  some  the  other,  of 
these  senses,  and  Halliwell  is  right  in  gi\Ting  both.  In  Florio's 
World  of  Words  (1611)  we  find  '  Carta  ;  any  paper,  a  leafe  of  a 
book.  Also  a  carde,  a  map.  Also  a  plaing  card.  Also  &c.' 
Other  dictionaries  give  the  same,  and  Carte  marine,  Carta  da 
nauicdrc  (Fl.),  Carta  de  marear  (Minsheu),  a  sailing  or  sea-card. 
Sometimes,  of  course,  the  determinative  adjective  is  omitted, 
as  in  Sylvester's  translation  of  Du  Bartas,  quoted  by  Dyce  in 
his  Shakespeare  Glossary : 

'  Sure,  if  my  card  and  compass  doe  not  fail 
Ware  neer  the  Port.'  (The  Triumph  of  Faith.) 

Here  the  original  is  '  mon  Quadi-ant  et  ma  Carte  marine,'  and 
'  quadrant'  answers  to  '  compass  ;'  for  though  Quadi-ant  is  not 
found  in  Cotgkave,  yet  Boussole  is  given  as  '  a  Pilot's  Dyall, 
Compass,  or  Quadrant.'  See  also  quotations  from  Halduyt 
and  Sir  H.  Mainwaring  in  Hunter's  New  Illustrations  of  Shake- 
speare. On  the  other  hand,  though  I  cannot  find  that  the  word 
is  used  for  the  card  of  the  compass  or  compass  itself,  in  Italian, 
French,  or  Spanish,  or  that  it  has  these  meanings  attached  to 
it  in  any  English  dictionary,  or  in  the  English  part  of  any  die- 


SAiXT  Peter's  complaint.  45 

tiouary,  yet  there  are  passages  which  admit  of  no  other.  Nares 

quotes  from  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Chances  (i.  11), 

'  We're  all  like  sea  cards, 
All  our  endeavours  and  our  motions, 
As  they  do  to  the  north,  still  point  at  beauty.' 

And  in  Fletcher's  Loyal  Subject  we  find  (iii.  2), 

'  I  send  ye 

With  your  own  virtues  season'd  and  my  prayers  ; 
The  card  of  goodness  in  your  minds,  that  shews  ye 
Wlien  ye  sail  false  ;  the  needle  touched  with  honour. 
That  through  the  blackest  storms  still  points  at  happiness. 
Your  bodies,'  Sac. 

And  elsewhere,  in  Southwell  ('  Our  Ladle's  Natiuitye'), 

'  Loadstarr  of  all  engolfd  in  woi'ldly  wanes. 
The  card  and  compasse  tliat  fi'om  shipwracke  saves  ;' 

where  the  allusion  to  one  person,  the  determining  context 
'  loadstar,'  and  the  verb  in  the  singular,  show  that  the  words 
mean  the  compass -card  and  needle.  In  some  passages  the 
author's  meaning  may  be  doubtful ;  as  in  Macbeth,  i.  3,  though 
from  the  word  '  ports,'  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  seaman's 
card  is  his  chart ;  and  this  will  appear,  if,  as  perhaps  we  ought 
to  do  with  the  text,  we  transpose  the  two  lines  ending  '  blow' 
and  '  know.'  It  may  also  be  doubtful  in  the  present  instance  ; 
but  as  the  misdeed  is  not  so  much  a  chart  of  his  haven,  or  of 
the  places  to  be  avoided,  or  of  his  course,  as  the  standing  con- 
stant guide  pointing  to  torment,  his  haven,  and  as  '  card'  is 
used  by  our  i)oet,  as  above  in  '  Our  Ladle's  Natiuitye,'  as  the 
compass-card,  so  I  believe  it  to  be  the  same  here.  In  Hamlet's 
'  speak  by  the  card'  the  word  is  used  in  a  third  and  very  different 
sense. 

St.  ii.  line  1,  shclfe  =  a  ledge  of  rock. 

Lines  5-6.  Turnbull  mispi-ints  '  ills'  for  '  euils.'  I  caU  it 
a  misprint ;  for  throughout  in  all  the  mss.  and  early  editions, 
Southwell  writes  '  euill'  not  '  ill ;'  and  there  is  something  no- 
ticeable herein,  inasmuch  as  this  constant  use  by  him  of  '  euUl' 
as  a  monosyllable  seems  to  i^rove  that  the  contemporary  jn-o- 
nunciation  (in  verse  at  least)  was  as  if  written  'e'il;'  very  much 
as  in  Scotland  '  devil'  is  pronounced  '  deU,'  and  as  '  spirit'  is 
pronounced  '  sprite.'  What  if,  after  all  the  guesses  of  the 
Shakesperean  commentators,  the  much-contested  '  dram  of  eale'' 
(Hamlet,  i.  4)  be  a  misprint  for  '  di-am  of  e'il'  =  evil  or  ill  ?  It 
fits  in  with  the  context.  See  our  Memoj-ial-Introduction  for 
numerous  examples  of  '  evill'  requiring  to  be  read  as  '  e'il.' 

Line  5.  Turnbull  misprints  '  the'  for  '  thy.' 


46  SAINT  Peter's  complaint. 

Line  10,  penance  =.  penitence,  as  in  st.  77,  line  4  ;  st.  125, 
line  6 ;  St.  Peter's  Remorse,  st.  ii.  line  1.  So  too  in  one  at 
least  of  the  B.C.  versions.  Wicklif  (St.  Luke  xv.  7)  and 
Chaucer  also  use  it  in  the  same  sense.     Cf.  Kichaedson,  s.  n. 

St.  iii.  line  5,  '  Tlnj  trespasse  foiile ;'  an  irregular  ellipse, 
where  (being),  or  perhaps  (is),  is  taken  out  of  the  succeeding 
'be.' 

St.  iv.  line  1,  'plaints;^  taking  'plaints'  as  the  nominative 
to  'sob,'  'report,'  and  'tell,'  I  have  punctuated  ruth  not  ruth, 
and,  sorrows — fruits  of  mine  untruth,. 

St.  vii.  line  3,  '  Threnes  ;'  alluding  to  the  '  threnes'  or  la- 
mentations c.  i-iv.,  where  the  stanzas  (and  in  c.  iii.  the  lines) 
commence  with  a  letter  of  the  Hebrew  ali^habet  in  succession, 
as  in  Psalm  cxix.  &c.     Turnbull  grossly  misprints  '  themes.' 

St.  viii.  line  6,  etien,  v.  act.  =  equal  or  equalise. 

St.  ix.  lines  1-4,  the  construction  is  somewhat  obscure.  Is 
'  and  leaving  God'  part  of  the  second  clause,  ending  with  '  give'  ? 
In  such  case  God  should  either  be  followed  by  (,)  or  by  no  stop 
at  all,  while  '  give'  should  have  (;).  Then  is  '  now  left'  to  be 
taken  as  jiart  of  this  second  clause  ?  or  should  it  close  the  first  ? 
Either  way  there  is  no  essential  difference  in  the  sense.  If 
taken  as  part  of  the  fii'st,  the  ellipse  requii-es  (and  am)  left  &c. 
I  have  followed  the  punctuation  of  1595  and  1596  here,  though 
doubting. 

Line  4,  Turnbull  again  badly  misprints  '  sign'  for  '  raigne.' 
For  =  for  sake  of. 

Line  5.  '  Tliese  fearcs  ;'  these  are  '  fears'  in  their  objective 
sense,  the  substantival  form  of  the  causal  verb,  to  fear,  to  make 
to  fear  =z  these  fear-causing  things  ;  the  second  fears  are  fears 
subjective,  or  the  fears  felt  and  acted  on,  through  the  feeling 
or  belief  that  the  cause  so  determined  avoided  disaster. 

St.  X.  line  3,  Turnbull  misprints  '  in'  for  '  to.' 

St.  xiv.  line  6,  for  =  for  sake  of,  as  before. 

St.  XV.  line  3,  I  have  ventured  to  read  '  few'  for  '  new'  of 
1595  and  1596. 

St.  xvi.  line  1,  '  Ah,  life  !'  Turnbull  now  over-punctuates 
and  now  under  and  mis-punctuates,  e.g.  he  puts  (!)  after  '  Ah' 
and  (,)  after  'life;'  and  so  throughout.  I  have  put  (!)  after  life, 
and  (,)  after  '  Ah,'  i.e.  after  the  noun  to  which  the  descriptive 
sentence  applies  ;  and  so  elsewhere.  1595  and  1596  punctuate 
simply  '  Ah  life,' 


SAINT  PETER  S  COMPLAINT.  47 

Line  3,  Turnbull  misprints  again  '  bind'  for  '  wind'  (of 
1595  and  1596). 

Line  6,  '  never-turning'  not  a  misprint  as  might  be  supposed 
for  '  ever-turning  ;'  but  =  never  returning,  which  might  have 
been  wi-itten  'ne'er-returning.'  Cf.  useof  '  turning' in  quotation 
from  Batman  in  our  next  note  on  st.  xviii.  lines  1-6. 

St.  xviii.  lines  1-6.  The  old  philosophy  believed  that  the 
ocean  filtered  back  through  narrow  chinks,  and  re-appeared  in 
springs ;  e.g.  Jerome  saith  (when  wi-iting  on  Eccles.  i.  7,  and 
giving  an  erroneous  interpretation),  '  Philosophers  tell,  that 
sweete  waters  that  runne  into  the  Sea,  be  consumpt  and  wasted 
by  heat  of  the  sunne,  or  els  they  be  foode  and  nourishing  of 
ealtnesse  of  the  sea.  But  our  Ecclesiastes,  the  maker  of  waters, 
sayeth.  That  they  come  agayne  by  privie  veynes  of  the  earth, 
to  the  well-heades,  and  commeth  out  of  the  mother,  that  is  the 
Sea,  and  walmeth  and  springeth  out  in  well-heades'  (Batman 
upon  Bartholome,  Ub.  xiii.  cap.  3).  Some,  however,  if  we  may 
judge  from  Batman's  quotations  from  Isidoee,  combined  the 
two  views ;  and  this  would  appear  from  the  word  '  added'  to  have 
been  that  which  Southwell  had  been  taught.  But  besides  the 
mother-sea  or  main-ocean,  there  had  to  be  added,  according  to 
early  Christian  philosophy,  the  ahyssus,  the  '  deep'  of  South- 
well, and  of  the  authorised  version,  Gen.  i.  2  and  vii.  11 : 
but  the  views  as  to  its  nature  and  position  appear  to  have 
been  vague  and  varied.  According  to  some,  '  abyssus'  is  '  deep- 
nesse  of  water  unseene,  and  thereof  come  and  spring  wells  and 
rivers  ;  for  out  of  the  deepnes  come  all  waters,  and  turne  againe 
thereto  by  priuy  waies,  as  to  the  mother  of  water,'  as  Isidore 
saith,  Ub.  13  :  but  according  to  Augustine,  '  abyssus'  is  the 
primordial  matter,  made  of  naught,  whereof  'all  things  that 
hath  shape  and  forme  should  be  shaped  and  formed,'  and  from 
which  it  would  appear  that  either  of  the  elements  of  earth  or 
water  were  according  to  the  onlination  gift  of  God  formed. 
Neither  does  it  seem  to  have  been  settled  whether  this  Abyss 
formed  part  of  the  general  circulation  spoken  of  above,  or 
whether  the  hidden  veins  from  the  Sea  to  the  well-heads  were 
subsidiary  to  the  hidden  veins  from  the  abyss  or  overflowing 
deep.     Compare  Batman,  lib.  xiii.  cap.  3,  22  and  23. 

St.  xix.  line  3.  The  construction  may  be  doubtful.  Looking 
to  the  word  '  unaccustomed,'  and  to  the  parallelism  of  '  unac- 
customed soil  and  barren  field,'  it  would  seem  the  heart  is  =  the 
soil,  and  the  construction, '  doth  this  unaccustomed  soil  need  it,' 


48  SAINT  teter's  complaint. 

viz.  the  fertilising  with  hellish  dung.  The  very  frequent  in- 
versions in  Southwell  favour  this  view,  and  assuming  it  to  he 
coiTect  I  have  punctuated  (,)  after  need. 

St.  XX.  line  1,  Tuknbull  misprints  '  dii'est'  for  '  duest.' 
St.  xxi.  line  1.  If  'lavu  of  St.  Matthew  xvi.  17  represent 
the  Hebrew  Jonah,  Bar-Jonah  is,  as  in  the  text, '  son  of  a  dove ;' 
but  by  the  analogy  of  the  lxx.  and  the  better  reading  'Iwdfi'ov  of 
St.  John  i.  42  is  with  gi-eater  probability  taken  to  represent 
Bar-Johannan  =  son  of  God's  grace. 

St.  xxii.  line  3,  'That  tJiou.''  Turnbull  confuses  all  by  mis- 
printing '  these'  for  '  thou.' 

St.  XXV.  line  1,  '  There.'  Turnbull  once  more  loses  the 
antithesis  as  between '  there'  and  '  here'  by  misprinting  '  These.' 

St.  xxvi.  line  6,  '  both  halfes'  =  body  and  soul ;  the  '  two 
mites'  of  the  old  Puritans  that  all  may  give  the  Lord. 

St.  xxvii.  lines  3-6.  A  reference  to  the  myth-simile  of  the 
'  viper'  rending  the  womb  of  its  mother  shows  that  the  reading 
is  not  '  mines'  but  '  ruine's  :'  =  all  good  is  the  wreck  of  thy  ruin 
or  ruining ;  just  as  a  rock  of  ruin  in  next  stanza  is  a  rock  of 
ruining,  or  rock  causing  ruin.  '  Vipera  is  a  manner  kinde  of 
Berpents  that  is  full  venemous.  Of  this  serpent  Isidore  speaketh 
lib.  xii.  and  saith,  that  Vipera  hath  that  name,  for  she  bringeth 
forth  broode  by  strength  :  for  when  hir  wombe  draweth  to  the 
time  of  whelping,  the  whelpes  abideth  not  covenable  time  nor 
kinde  passing,  but  gnaweth  and  fretteth  the  sides  of  their  dam, 
and  they  come  so  into  this  world  with  strength,  and  with 
the  death  of  the  breeder.  It  is  said,  that  the  male  doeth  his 
mouth  into  the  mouth  of  the  female  ....  and  she  wexeth  woode 
[=wud]  in  lyking  of  increase,  biteth  off  the  head  of  the  male, 
and  so  both  male  and  female  are  slaine.'  (Batman  upon  Bar- 
tholome,  lib.  xviii.  cap.  117.) 

St.  xxviii. line 5,  'Infamous,'  and  so  inst.  Ixxxv.  line  4:  but 
'  infamy'  in  st.  xlviii.  line  5,  and  elsewhere. 

St.  xxix.  line  5,  rest  =  support :  '  and  he  made  narrowed  rests 
round  about,  that  the  beams  should  not  be  fastened  in  the  walls 
of  the  house'  (1  Kings  vi.  6).  To  stay  ^  to  support  restrain- 
iugly,  as  do  the  '  stays'  of  a  ship's  mast:  in  st.  xxiv.  1.  3.  it  has 
more  the  simple  sense  of  restraining  (from  the  plunge) ;  for  a 
'  stay'  in  the  sense  of  a  restraining  support  is  properly  a  side 
or  inclined  support,  not  an  under-pinning  or  under-propping. 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  49 

St.  xxxii.  line  5,  Turnbull  vcxatiously  misprints  '  by'  for 
'my.' 

St.  xxxiii.  line  1,  Additional  mss.  10.422  reads  'Parted:' 
and  I  prefer  it  to  '  Parting'  of  1595  and  1596. 

St.  xxxiv.  line  1,  'Fan-e'  Turnbull  obscures  by  misprinting 
'  Fare.' 

Line  4,  Turnbull  again  misprints  '  suck'  for  '  seeke.' 

St.  xxxviii.  line  1,  '  part'  i.e.  me,  from  Cbrist. 

Line  4,  Turnbull  misprints  '  danger'  for  '  damage :'  1595 
spells  '  domage.' 

Line  5.  I  have  ventured  to  make  two  corrections  in  this 
line,  viz.  '  worse'  for  '  worst,'  and  '  his'  for  '  this.'  In  the  latter 
the  rhyme  is  not  so  good  ;  but  cf.  '  he  is'  and  '  bliss'  in  A  Child 
my  Choice,  st.  v.  '  That  runnes'  can  hardly  refer  to  danger  or 
distance  or  death. 

St.  xlii.  line  5, '  canded,'  as  in  Shakespeare,  '  The  cold  brook 
candied  with  ice'  (Timon,  act  iv.  sc.  3).  On  this  Shakespcrean 
parallel,  see  our  Memorial-Introduction. 

St.  xliv.  line  5,  '  alone'  =  in  this  only  or  alone  did  the  '  crow- 
ing' assuage,  that  the  cock  thereby  became  his  clock  to  reckon 
his  task-duty  of  tears. 

St.  xlv.  line  4,  '  stinted.'  The  sense  is  not  eyes  '  stinted'  by 
any  one ;  but  eyes  in  a  state  of  '  stint'  (as  compared  with  the 
remorse  due  for  so  supreme  a  crime).  This  sense  of  the  parti- 
ciple in  -ed,  in  which  it  can  hardly  be  called  a  participle  of 
past  time,  allows  and  explains  its  use  in  Shakespeare  and 
others,  where  we  would  rather  employ  the  participle  -ing. 
Thus  BoLiNGBROKE  uscs  '  tottcr'd :' 

'  Let's  march  without  the  noise  of  threatening  drums, 

That  from  the  castle's  toiter'd  battlements 

Our  fair  appointments  may  be  well  perused.' 

King  Richard  If.  act  iii.  sc.  3. 
We  use  the  -ed  form  in  a  similar  sense,  but  not  so  frequently ; 
and  where  the  action  appears  to  exist  within  the  thing  itself,' 
as  in  '  stint'  and  '  totter,'  we  prefer  (though  with  less  truth)  to 
make  the  noun  agental,  and  speak  of  '  stinting  eyes'  and  '  tot- 
ter/n/7  walls.'  If  Bolingbroke  had  battered  Flint  Castle,  he 
would  probably  have  said  '  totter /n/;  walls,'  as  indicative  of  a 
newly  present  result.  For  more,  see  relative  note  on  st.  cxi. 
line  4,  '  disenchantt'c?.' 


50  SAINT  PETERS  COMPLAINT. 

St.  xlvi.  line  1,  '  Revenger' =  Christ,  not  the  cock,  as  Tuen- 
bull's  '  revenger'  might  suggest. 

St.xlviii.  line  4,  '  spoyle.'     See  general  note  onward. 

Lines  1-3,  '  gnats  :'  Exodus  viii.  16-18.  The  third  plague  (of 
lice,  Auth.  Vers.).  The  avicpfs  and  avlTres  of  the  lxx.,  and  the 
cyniphcs  and  scyniphes  of  the  Vulgate— all  taken  hy  the  Egyp- 
tian and  African  authorities,  Philo,  Origen,  Augustine,  &c.,  to 
be  gnat-lUie  insects. 

St.  1.  line  6,  Turnbull  misreads  '  Fine'  for  '  True'  of  1595 
and  1596.  Addl.  mss.  10.422  spells  '  Thrue,'  the  copyist  being 
probably  an  Irishman. 

St.  lii.  line  3,  Turnbull  again  obscin-es  by  misprinting  '  ef- 
fecting.' 

St.-  liii.  line  2,  '  di'oyles'=  drudges. 

St.  liv.  line  3,  '  captiuing ;'  causal  use  :  thralls— taldng  cap- 
tive theii-  masters  or  those  who  are  free. 

Line  6,  '  false.'  By  the  usual  jjunctuation  false,  (,)  that  in- 
terpretation is  suggested  and  favoured  which  would  read,  '  do 
you  false  ones,  when  you  seem  to  feel  either  of  these  emotions, 
love  or  loathe  ?'  Looking  to  Southwell's  general  style  and  use 
of  inversion,  I  prefer  to  interpret  false  as  =/a/s«= do  you  love 
or  loathe  falsehood  ?     Accordingly  comma  {,)  omitted. 

St.  Mi.  13  et  seqq.  On  this  passage  see  our  Memorial-Intro- 
duction for  a  very  remarkable  Shakesperean  parallel  hitherto 
overlooked,  and  confirmatory  of  other  Shakespeare  allusions 
found  in  Southwell. 

St.  lix.  line  3,  '  ambryes,'  in  Turnbull  '  ambries.'  Ambry 
=  almonry,  or  the  place  where  alms  (and  as  here  alms  or  doles 
of  food)  were  kept.  In  Scotland  still= a  larder  or  pantry  for  cold 
and  broken  meats,  '  aumry,'  as  in  Fergusson's  '  Caller  Water.' 

St.  Ixi.  line  1,  I  have  printed  '  light'ning,'  not  '  lightning- 
flames  :'=the  blazing  comets  lighten  flames  of  love. 

St.  Ixii.  line  2,  '  shadows  worths,'  not,  as  Turnbull  mis- 
prints, '  shadow  worths.'  In  so  doing  the  '  living  mirrors'  go 
beyond  what  ie  natural ;  for  in  Nature 

'  No  shadow  can  with  shadow'd  things  compare.' 

Letcd  Love  is  Losse,  st.  2. 

Line  6,  '  Then  in  myselfe,  whom  sinne  and  shame  defac't.' 
The  thought  is  di-awn  from  Holy  Scripture,  and  the  expression 
characteristically  elliptical.     His  '  image'  showed  itself  in  the 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  51 

eyes  of  Christ  as  that  of  a  man  before  the  Fall  made  in  the 
image  of  God,  whereas  in  himself  it  appeared  blurred  and  de- 
faced. '  My  image'  may  in  the  first  line  have  the  ordinary 
sense  of  the  'image'  of  myself ;  but  in  the  second  line  it  means 
as  {ineo  jiuUcio)  in  the  first  also,  the  image  that  is  in  me,  much 
as  '  my  wrongs'  and  '  my  injuries'  might  in  the  older  writers  be 
used  to  mean  the  wrongs  or  injuries  done  to  me. 

St.  Ixiv.  line  1,  '  Hesebon.'  I  place  in  margin,  from  1595 
edition  (dropped  in  1596),  '  Cant.  vii.  3.'  Oculi  tui  sicut  piscina) 
in  Hesebon,  qu^  sunt  in  portu  filife  multitudiuis  (Vulg.) :  '  Thine 
eyes  like  the  fish-pools  in  Heshbon  by  the  gate  of  Bath-rabbim' 
(Auth.  Vers.),  Cant.  vii.  4.  The  '  baths  of  gi-ace'  is  a  new  epi- 
thet, and  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  pools  of  Heshbon.  Hence 
I  punctuate  Hesebon  (;)  not  (,),  and  (,)  not  (;)  after  '  desires.' 

Line  3,  Turnbull  misreads  '  delight'  for  '  i-eioyce.' 

St.  Ixv.  line  2,  Tuknbull  again  obscures  and  nonsensifies 
by  misprinting  '  works'  for  '  words.' 

St.  Ixvi.  line  1,  cf.  St.  Luke  xxii.  61. 
St.  Lxviii.  line  3,  '  compasse'^ circumference. 
St.  Ixix.  line  2,  1595  spells  '  soone.' 

Line  3,  Turnbull  misjH-ints  '  Whose'  for  '  Where  :'  and  line 
5,  '  Whose'  for  '  The.' 

St.  Ixx.  line  3,  I  have  ventured  to  read  '  Best'  for  '  But.' 
The  previous  stanza  and  the  word  '  Both'  in  the  next  line  war- 
rant the  emendation. 

St.  Ixxi.  lines  1-4.  At  first  sight  it  seems  natural  to  make  a 
division  at  salamander,  thus  reading  [exiled]  from  heaven,  [ex- 
iled] from  fire  ;  lost  fish  [I  wander] .  Perhaps  too  the  rhythm 
is  rather  improved  thereby.  But  as  heaven  =  air,  fii-e,  water, 
laud  of  life,  reflect  the  enumeration  in  the  last  stanza  but  one, 
I  have  punctuated  roam  ;  [thus  ending  the  general  clause,  and 
then  giving  the  elemental  similes]  ....  salamander  ....  home 
....  wander.  The  ellipse  is  viore  Southwell,  '  Poor  saint 
from  heaven  [I  wander]  ....  from  land  of  life  I  wander,  &c. 

St.  Ixxii.  line  1,  cf.  1  Chronicles  ii.  17-18.  Bethlehem  is  the 
Vulgate  form,  which  Southwell  has  contracted.  So  too  with 
Salomon  (st.  li.  line  2)  and  Aman,  &c. 

Line  2,  '  keep.'  A  strangely  elliptical  omission  of  the  ob- 
jective [me] . 


52  SAINT  Peter's  complaint. 

St.  Ixxiii.  line  3,  '  surmounts' :=  over-passes,  excels  —  one 
sense  of  the  French  surmonter. 

St.  Ixxiv.  line  1,  Acldl.  mss.  10.422  reads  '  Horehh  rocke.' 

St.  Ixxv.  line  1,  '  dcimirre  .•'=:to  delay  by  dwelling  on,  to  dwell 
on,  its  pi-imary  sense  :  French  demeurer. 

St.  Ixxvi.  line  1,  Southwell  adds  to  the  old  myth  of  the 
dying  swan's  '  singing'  solitariness  or  singleness ;  a  natural 
and  pathetic  inference. 

St.  Ixxvii.  line  4,  '  penance' =:penitence,  as  before. 

St.  Ixxviii.  line  4,  '  By'=through,  by  means  of,  as  more  fre- 
quently in  our  Poet's  day  than  now.  By  love  is  here,  through 
God's  love. 

St.  Ixxix.  line  3,  '2^?'0&flfes  .•'=proofs,  or  perhaps  provings, 
though  it  is  diiScult  to  understand  how  this  obsolete  sense,  or 
its  legal  sense,  was  derived  from  probatus. 

St.  Ixxxv.  line  4,  '  infamous.'  See  relative  note  on  st.  xxviii. 
line  5. 

St.  Ixxxvi.  line  6,  '  euen.'  Here,  like  '  heauen,'  monosyl- 
labic :  but  while  oui-  pronunciation  of  '  heaven'  does  not  require 
'  heav'n,'  the  fulness  of  our  '  even'  requii-es  '  e'en,'  and  so  I  note 
it  (see  also  st.  c.  line  4).  The  student  will  have  no  difficulty 
in  ijroperly  reading  such  words  in  their  jilaces  by  attention  to 
the  above  rule,  and  so  in  the  full  -ed  and  -'d  (apostrophe),  e.g. 
'  Cain's  murdering  hand  imbrued  in  brother's  blood'  (st.  Ixxxviii. 
line  1),  '  murdering'  needs  no  more  to  be  printed  '  murd'ring'  as 
dissyllabic,  than  '  heavens'  and  '  prayers'  requii-e  to  be  '  The 
heav'ns  with  pray'rs,  her  lap  with  tears  she  fill'd'  (st.  Ixxxix. 
line  5).  In  Southwell,  er,  en,  and  on,  are  almost  constantly 
slurred,  though  he  seizes  every  opportunity  of  syllabling  -ed. 
Throughout,  with  one  or  two  exceptions  (duly  noted  in  their 
places),  that  might  lead  to  ambiguous  readings,  I  adhere  to  the 
Stonyhuest  mss.  forms. 

St.  Ixxxvii.  line  4,  '  sluce.'  Tuenbull  wi-etchedly  misprints 
'  slime.' 

St.  Ixxxix.  line  1,  '  pheare  :'  spelled  in  1595  'phere'  =  hus- 
band (Abraham). 

Line  2,  Tuenbull  misprints  '  In  wilds  Barsabian  wandering 
alone'=the  desert  of  Beth-sheba,  Auth.  Vers. ;  Bi^pffafiet,  Sojit., 
Bersabo,  Vulg.  2>(i><sim  :  in  accord  with  which  I  read  Bcr-  not 
Bar- 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  53" 

Line  3,  '  doubting' =:in  the  old  sense  of  suspecting:=di'eading. 
St.  xc.  line  3,  Turnbull  misprints  '  by'  for  '  of.' 

St.  xciii.  line  5,  '  Too.'  Turnbull  vexatiously  misprints 
'  For.' 

Line  6,  Turnbull  once  more  misprints  '  is'  for  '  base.' 

St.  xcv.  line  3,  not  '  embalm,'  as  in  Turnbull. 

Line  4,  '  rupture.^  Turnbull  senselessly  misreads  and  mis- 
prints '  rapture.'  Cf.  The  Vii-gin  Mary  to  Chi'ist,  for  the  sense 
(St.  4). 

St.  xcvi.  line  2,  '  sindonless.'  (TiyScuv  said  to  be  muslin  and 
a  garment  of  muslin  ;  (nvSouiTris,  the  wearer  of  such  a  garment : 
but  the  cni'Sulu  fivaenvos,  as  the  embalming-cloths  of  the  Egyp- 
tians are  called  by  Herodotus,  shows  that  the  word  was  used 
more  generically.  It  might  also  be  supposed  that  Southwell 
was  anticipating,  since  it  was  only  by  Pharaoh  that  Joseph  was 
endued  with  a  (ttoAtj  fivaaip-r) ;  but  the  above  words  of  Herodotus, 
as  interpreted  by  the  mummy-wi'appings,  show  that  aivditji/  was 
not  necessarily  applied  to  a  thin  roller  either  of  fine  cotton  or 
fine  linen. 

Line  4,  Turnbull  misprints  '  Such'  for  '  Riche;'  and  line  5 
'  rich'  for  '  that.' 

St.  ci.  line  1,  cf.  St.  Mark  iu.  16-17  ;  v.  37  :  St.  Matthew 
xvii.  1 ;  xxvi.  37. 

Line  6,  cf.  Ecclesiastes  iv.  12. 

St.  ciii.  line  2,  for  '  wi'ought'  I  have  put  '  raught'  in  the 
mai'gin,  such  being  the  meaning.  But  in  this  and  other  words 
there  was  a  confusion  in  the  old  spelling  which  hartUy  amounted 
to  error.  In  Earle's  Phil,  of  Engl.  Tongue  (p.  142)  Coverdale  is 
quoted  as  spelling  '  raught'  like  Southwell  '  wrought'  (Parker 
Soc.  i.  17). 

Line  3,  referi-ing  to  the  passages  in  the  Gospels  under  st.  ci, 
line  1,  and  to  the  triple  cord  of  friendship  there  mentioned,  it 
would  almost  seem  that  Southwell  considered  St.  Peter  to  have 
been  included  in  the  collective  name  'Boanerges.'  Or  have  we 
the  Apostolate  represented  by  St.  Peter  the  rock  (line  1)  and 
St.  John  the  eagle  (line  2)  ? 

Line  5,  Turnbull  misprints,  with  even  more  than  his  usual 
carelessness, '  rubber'  for  '  runner,'  stupidly  perpetrating  a  mis- 
erable pun  as  between  'I'ubber'  and  '  rub.' 

Line  6,  '  cedar.'     From  the  general  imagery  of  the  Old  Tes- 


54  SAINT  Peter's  complaint. 

tament,  with  possibly  especial  remembrance  of  Isaiah  xxxvii. 
22-24. 

St.  civ.  line  4,  St.  Matthew  xii.  43-5. 

St.  cv.  lines  1-4,  at  the  Transfiguration. 

St.  cvi.  line  4.  Here  is  a  case  where  a  strict  regard  to  metre 
would  read  '  light'neth  ;'  but  I  prefer  for  emphasis'  sake  to  read 
and  iH'onouuce  it  as  demi-trisyllabic. 

Line  5,  Tuenbull  misprints  'late'  for  'lay'  =  unapostolic. 
,,  C,  in  Addl.  iiss.  10.422  the  reading  is  '  cast'  for  '  taste.' 
Query :  Is  this  the  proper  word,  and  the  reference  to  Judas 
casting  down  his  blood-money  before  the  priests  ?  (St.  Matthew 
xxvii.  5.)  In  1595,  as  well  as  in  1596,  it  is  '  taste,'  in  the  for- 
mer spelled  '  tast.'  In  1595  for  '  earned'  of  1596  the  reading  is 
'earnest,'  which  I  adopt  as=:the  foretaste,  or  Scotice  '  earles,' 
or  earl-money,  given  on  the  hii-ing  of  servants.  Cf .  2  Cor.  i.  22 ; 
Ephesians  i.  14,  and  Mr.  W.  A.  Wright's  Bible  Word-Book,  s.v. 

St.  cix.  line  4,  '  abode'  =foreshow,  v.  act.,  as  in  Shakespeare, 

'  Tlie  night-crow  cried,  aboding  luckless  time.' 

3  Henry  VI.  v.  6. 

St.  cxi.  line  4,  '  disinchanted  charmes,'  in  their  [natural] 
state  of  disenchantment.    (See  relative  note  on  st.  xlv.  line  4.) 

St.  cxiii.  reminds  of  the  soliloquy  of  Richard  II.  act  ii. 

St.  cxv.  line  2,  '  Whose''  refers  to  parts,  as  before. 

Line  3,  '  ingrosse'^engrossier=make  greater. 

St.  cxvi.  line  4,  'force.''  Verb  intrans.;=: strive  (Webster); 
alluding  not  so  much  to  pressing  things  on  would-be  customers, 
as  to  the  usual  cry  of  WTiat  d'ye  lack  ? 

St.  cxvii.  line  3,  '  Rent.''  Tuenbull,  with  unpardonable  neg- 
ligence, makes  nonsense  of  this  by  misprinting  '  but'  for  '  rent,' 
which  is  the  word  in  1595,  1596,  and  Addl.  mss.  10.422. 

Line  6,  Tuenbull  further  blunderingly  reads  '  Where'  for 
'  Whose.' 

St.  cxx.  line  6,  '  weepe.'  Tuenbull  yet  again  misprints  ba- 
theticaUy  '  sleep'  for  '  weepe.' 

St.  cxxi.  line  2,  '  balme.'  Tuenbull  once  more  actually 
prints  '  blame'  for  '  balme.' 

St.  cxxii.  line  3,  ^givdng  themes  to  fancy. 

Line  6,  '  foretold,'  not  predicted,  but  rightly  recounted  dur- 
ing the  past  time  of  wakefulness. 


SAINT  Peter's  complaint.  55 

St.  cxxv.  line  6,  '  pcnance'=penitence,  as  before. 

St.  cxxvii.  line  1,  2  Chronicles  xxxii.  11-13. 

St.  cxxviii.  line  1,  as  the  consti'uction  is  not  [I  dare]  wish 
I  may  [mend] ,  but  I  may  [that  is,  it  is  allowable  for  me  to] 
wish  [to  mend] ,  I  i^unctuate  wish  (,). 

Line  3,  'my  stay,'  Tornbull  misprints  '  mistay.' 
,,     4,  a  reminiscence  of  the  Confessions  of  St.  Augustine. 
„     6,  so  too  he  misprints  '  worst'  for  '  most,'  and  '  love'  for 
'  vow.' 

St.  cxxix.  line  3,  '  release.'  Addl.  mss.  10.422  reads  '  re- 
leaf  e.' 

Line  4,  '  sauing  shroud:'  the  '  saving  shroud:'  prophetically 
spoken  of  his  martyi-dom  and  with  reference  to  Rev.  vi.  9-11, 
&c.     Repaires=:\)la.CGS  whither  one  goes  or  repaii's. 

St. cxxxi.  line 3,  Turnbull  provokingly misprints  'increase' 
for  '  incense.' 

St.  cxxxii.  line  1,  1595  badly  misprints  '  thy'  for  '  my,'  and 
'  my'  for  '  thy.'  G. 


MYRT^,  OR  MYRTLE-WREATHS. 

' .  .  .  viridi  nitidum  caput  impedire  myrto.' 

Horace,  Od.  i,  4,  9. 


NOTE. 

I  have  given  the  name  '  Myi-tfe'  to  the  second  division  of  the 
Poems  of  Southwell  for  two  reasons  : 

(a)  To  avoid  the  commonplace  title  of 'Miscellaneous  Poems.' 

(b)  To  correspond  with  that  already  accepted  for  the  third 
portion  ('  Majoniaj'). 

If  those  place  our  singer  among  the  dainty  players  of  Lydia 
—  and  something  more  —  these  have  the  vividness  and  sweet 
perfume  of  the  classic  '  mjTtle.' 

The  whole  of  the  Poems  of  this  part  wei-e  added  to  St. 
Peter's  Complaint  in  1595,  with  the  exceiition  of  those  noticed 
in  our  Preface.     These  were  first  added  in  1596. 

I  have  adhered  to  the  arrangement  of  1596,  except  in  re- 
moving the  Natiuity  of  Christ,  and  Christ's  Childehood,  and 
Joseph's  Amazement,  to  their  own  places  in  Ma;oniae,  as  choice 
beads  in  a  string  of  pearls  (as  old  Thomas  Brooks  has  it), 
placed  around  the  supreme  Life  and  that  of  His  Mother. 

Throughout,  the  basis  of  our  text  is  the  Stonyhukst  mss. 
Notes  and  Illustrations  at  the  end  of  each  poem  give  various 
readings,  &c.  &c.  G. 


MARY  MAGDALEN'8  BLUSHE. 


The  signes  of  shame  that  stayne  my  Llushiiige  face, 
Rise  from  the  feelinge  of  my  ravinge  fittes, 
Wl\ose  joy  annoy,  whose  guerdon  is  disgrace, 
Whose  solace  flyes,  whose  sorowe  never  flittes  : 
Bad  seede  I  sow'd,  worse  fruite  is  now  my  gayne, 
Soone-dying  mirth  begatt  long-living  payne. 

11. 
Nowe  pleasure  ebbs,  revenge  beginns  to  flowe  ; 
One  day  doth  wrecke  the  wrath  that  many  wrought ; 
Remorse  doth  teach  my  guilty  thoughtes  to  knowe 
Howe  cheape  I  sould  that  Christ  so  dearely  bought  : 
Eaultes  long  unfelt  doth  conscyence  now  bewraye, 
Which  cares  must  cure  and  teares  must  washe  awaye. 

III. 
All  ghostly  dints  that  Grace  at  me  did  dart, 
Like  stobbourne  rock  I  forced  to  recoyle  ; 
To  other  flightes  an  ayme  I  made  my  hart 
Whose  woundes,  then  welcome,  now  have  nought  my 

foyle. 
Woe  worth  the  bowe,  Avoe  worth  the  Archer's  might, 
That  draue  such  arrowes  to  the  marke  so  ric^ht ! 


60  MxVRY  MAGDALEN  S  BLUSHE. 

IV. 

To  liull  them  out,  to  leave  tliem  in  is  deatlie, 
One  to  this  world,  one  to  the  world  to  come ; 
Woundes  may  I  weare,  and  draw  a  doubtfiill  breath, 
But  then  my  woundes  will  worke  a  dreadfull  dome ; 
And  for  a  world  whose  pleasures  passe  awaye, 
1  loost  a  world,  whose  joyes  are  paste  decaye. 

V. 

O  sence !  0  soule !  O  had !  0  hoped  blisse ! 
Yow  woe,  yow  weane;  yow  draw,  yow  drive  me  backe; 
Yow  crosse  encountring,  like  their  conibate  is, 
That  never  end  but  with  some  deadly  wracke ; 
When  sence  doth  wynne,  the  soule  doth  loose  the  feilde, 
And  present  happ  makes  future  hopes  to  yelde. 

VI. 

O  heaven,  lament !  sense  robbeth  thee  of  sayntes. 
Lament,  0  soules !  sence  spoyleth  yow  of  grace ; 
Yet  sence  doth  scarce  deserve  these  hard  complayntes. 
Love  is  the  theefe,  sence  but  the  entringe  place  ; 
Yett  graunt  I  must,  sence  is  not  free  from  synne, 
For  theefe  he  is  that  theefe  admitteth  in. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  i.  line  2,  '  feelinge'  =  the  sense  or  perception  of. 

Line  5,  Tuknbull  misprints  '  seed'  for  '  fruite.' 

St.  ii.  line  2,  similarly  he  misprints  'work'  for  'wrecke'  = 
wreak,  spelled  '  wreake'  in  1596. 

St.  iii.  line  1,  '  dints.'  Dint  is  used  as  1.  the  force  or  energy 
employed ;'  2.  the  stroke  itself ;  3.  the  effect  of  the  stroke,  a 


MARY  Magdalen's  blushe.  G1 

(lent  (Webster).  In  the  fourth  of  the  passages  in  which  it  occurs 
in  Southwell  (Man  to  the  Wound  in  Chi-ist's  side,  st.  v.  line 
2)  it  is  used  as  2.  the  stroke.  In  the  second  (Losse  in  Delaye, 
St.  vi.  line  3)  the  same  sense  may  be  attributed  to  it.  But  in 
the  thu-d  (Life  is  but  Losse,  st.  iv.  Hne  2)  it  can,  of  the  three 
senses,  only  have  1.  the  force.  And  while  in  this  first  instance 
senses  1.  and  3.  are  clearly  inadmissible,  the  sense  which  best 
agi-ees  with  the  context  (dart  and  recoil),  and  which  best  ex- 
plains the  second  and  especially  the  thii-d  passage,  is  a  fourth 
sense,  that  namely  of  the  weapon  while  in  action.  From  as- 
sociating the  word  '  dint'  with  a  particular  kiud  of  weapon,  the 
spear  or  dart,  as  he  clearly  does  in  three  out  of  the  four-  in- 
stances, the  fourth  being  left  indefinite  in  its  exin-ession,  he 
seems  to  have  been  led  to  employ  it  as  expressing  that  weapon 
in  action ;  just  as  two  lines  lower  he  uses,  as  is  shown  by  the 
words  '  whose  wounds,'  the  word  '  flight,'  the  technical  or  quasi- 
technical  term  for  the  action  of  arrows,  for  arrows  in  flight  or 
action.     But,  as  onward,  flights  may  be  fleghts  =  aiTows. 

St.  iii.  line  6,  I  adopt  '  draue'  =  drave,  from  1596,  in  pre- 
ference to  '  di'awe'  of  our  ms. 

St.  iv.  line  6,  Tuenbull  misprints  '  lose'  for  '  loost.' 
St.  V.  line  1,  '  had,'  Tuenbull  misprints  'hap.' 
Lines  2-3.  Here  only,  as  a  specimen,  I  give  the  uncouth 
spelling  with  a  to  for  our  u.  I  have  not  repeated  it,  nor  in 
'  thou.'  Cf.  Synne's  Heavy  Loade,  st.  iv.  and  v.  (p.  106),  where 
'  thou'  in  our  ms.  is  spelled  '  thow.'  It  is  '  thou'  in  the  first  and 
early-printed  editions,  and  there  is  no  reason  for  preserving  a 
barbarism. 

Line  2,  '  weane'  =  wean,  Tuenbull  misprints  '  win.' 
„  6,  '  Happ  :'  in  1596  '  haps.'  It  has  been  said  that  happi- 
ness (like  success)  has  kept  only  a  part  of  the  original  sense 
of  '  hap.'  If  this  be  so,  Southwell  has  here,  and  also  in  Love's 
servile  Lott  (st.  xiii.  line  2)  and  in  \Vhat  Joye  to  live  (st.  ii. 
line  4),  used '  hap'  in  a  sense  reflected  from  happiness,  and  equal 
to  good  hap  and  bad  hap  severally.  See  other  examples  in 
Tymes  goe  byTurnes  (st.  i.  line  6,  and  st.  ii.  line  6),  and  Con- 
tent and  Rich  (st.  xiv.  line  4). 

St.  vi.  line  4,  Tuenbull  misprints  '  chief  for  '  theefe'  G. 


MARY  MAGDALEN'S  COMPLAINT  AT 
CHEIST'S  DEATH. 

81TH  my  life  from  life  is  parted, 
Death  come  take  thy  portion  ; 

Who  survives  when  life  is  miirdred, 
Lives  by  mere  extortion  : 

All  that  live,  and  not  in  God, 

Couche  their  life  in  deathe's  abode. 

Selye  starres  must  nedes  leve  shyninge 
When  the  sunne  is  shadowed, 

Boiowed  streames  refrayne  their  runninge 
When  hed-springes  are  hindered  ; 

One  that  lives  by  other's  breathe, 

Dyeth  also  by  his  deatlie. 

0  trewe  life!  sith  Thou  hast  left  me, 

Mortall  life  is  tedious ; 
Death  it  is  to  live  without  Thee, 

Death  of  all  most  odious  : 
Turne  againe  or  take  me  to  Thee, 
Let  me  dye  or  live  Thou  in  me ! 

Where  the  truth  once  was  and  is  not, 
Shadowes  are  but  vanitye  ; 


MARY  Magdalen's  complaint  at  Christ's  death.    G3 

Shewinge  want,  that  lielpe  tliey  cannot, 

Signes,  not  salves,  of  miserye. 
Paynted  meate  no  hunger  feedes, 
Dyinge  life  eche  death  exceedes. 

With  my  love  my  life  was  nestled 

In  the  siimme  of  happynes  ; 
From  my  love  my  life  is  wrested 

To  a  world  of  heavynes  : 
0  lett  love  my  life  remove, 
Sith  I  live  not  where  I  love ! 

0  my  soule !  what  did  unloose  thee 

From  thy  sweete  captivitye, 
God,  not  I,  did  still  possesse  thee, 

His,  not  myne,  thy  Kbertie  : 
0  too  happy  thrall  thou  wert, 
When  thy  prison  was  His  hart. 

SpitefuU  speare  that  brak'st  this  prison, 

Seate  of  all  felicitye, 
Workinge  thus  mth  dooble  treason 

Love's  and  life's  deliverye  : 
Though  my  life  thou  dravst  awaye, 
Maugre  thee  my  love  shall  staye. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Our  MS.,  in  agreement  with  1596,  coiTects  three  of  Turn- 
bull's  characteristic  misreadings  and  misiirints :  st.  v.  line  2, 
'  sun'  for  '  snmme  :'  st.  vi.  line  1,  '  that'  for  '  what :'  st.  vii.  line 
o,  '  di-aw'st'  for  '  di-av'st.'     Additional  mss.  10.422  has  all  these 


64  TTMES  GOE  BY  TURNES. 

blunders.  St.  ii.  line  1,  see  relative  note  on  '  sely'  in  '  I  die 
without  desert.'  St.  iii.  lines  3  and  5 :  here  and  throughout,  I 
print  '  Thee,'  not  '  The'  of  our  mss.— the  latter  simply  confuses, 
and  this  record  is  enough  for  critical  purposes. 

Consult  our  Introduction  for  elucidation  of  what  I  regard  as 
an  affecting  personal  reminiscence  in  st.  i.  lines  3-4.  Cf.  also 
'  Life  is  biit  Losse,'  line  1,  and  st.  iv.,  especially  lines  3  and  5. 
G. 


TYMES  GOE  BY  TURNES. 

The  lopped  tree  in  tyme  may  growe  agayne ; 
Most  naked  plants  renewe  both,  frute  and  fioure  ; 
The  soriest  wiglit  may  finde  release  of  payne, 
The  dryest  soyle  sucke  in  some  moystning  shoure ; 
Tymes  go  by  turnes  and  chaunces  cliang  by  course, 
From  foule  to  fayre,  from  better  happ  to  worse. 

The  sea  of  Fortune  doth  not  ever  floe, 

She  drawes  her  favours  to  the  lowest  ebb ; 

Her  tide  hath  equall  tymes  to  come  and  goe, 

Her  loome  doth  weave  the  fine  and  coarsest  webb  ; 

No  joy  so  great  but  runneth  to  an  ende, 

No  happ  so  harde  but  may  in  fine  amende. 

Not  allwayes  fall  of  leafe  nor  ever  springe, 
No  endlesse  night  yet  not  eternall  daye ; 
The  saddest  birdes  a  season  finde  to  singe. 
The  roughest  storme  a  calme  may  soone  alaye  ; 
Thus  with  succeding  turnes  God  tempereth  all, 
That  man  may  hope  to  rise  yet  feare  to  fall. 


LOOKE  HOME.  65 

A  chautice  may  wynne  that  by  mischance  was  lost ; 
The  nett  that  houldcs  no  greate,  takes  little  fishe ; 
In  some  thinges  all,  in  all  thinges  none  are  croste, 
Fewe  all  they  neede,  hut  none  have  all  they  wishe ; 
Unmedled  joyes  here  to  no  man  befall, 
Who  least  hath  some,  who  most  hath  never  all, 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

TuRNBULL  has  once  more  provoking  misprints  in  this  poem : 
c.r/.  St.  i.  line  3,  '  sorest'  for  '  sorriest :'  st.  ii.  line  3,  'time'  for 
'tide :'  st.  iv.  line  2,  '  web'  for  '  nett.'  159(i  in  st.  iii.  line  2  has 
'  nor  yet'  for  'yet  not.'  1630  in  st.  iv.  line  5  reads  '  vnmingled.' 
G. 


LOOKE  HOME. 


EETYRfeD  thoughtes  enjoy  their  owne  delightes, 

As  beauty  doth  in  self-beboulding  eye ; 

Man's  mynde  a  mirrhour  is  of  heavenly  sightes, 

A  breife  wherein  all  marveylls  summed  lye, 

Of  fayrest  formes  and  sweetest  shapes  the  store, 

IMost  gracefull  all,  yet  thought  may  grace  them  more. 

The  mynde  a  creature  is,  yet  can  create. 

To  ISTature's  paterns  adding  higher  skill ; 

Of  fynest  workes  witt  better  could  the  state 

If  force  of  witt  had  equall  poure  of  will  : 

Devise  of  man  in  working  hath  no  ende  ; 

What  thought  can  thinke  an  other  thought  can  niende. 


66  fortune's  falsehoode. 

Man's  soiile  of  endles  bewtye's  image  is, 
Drawen  by  the  worke  of  endles  skill  and  miglit ; 
This  skillfull  might  gave  many  sparkes  of  blisse, 
And  to  descerne  this  blisse  a  native  light ; 
To  frame  God's  image  as  His  worthes  requird, 
His  might,  His  skill.  His  worde  and  will  conspir'd. 

All  that  he  had  His  image  should  present. 
All  that  it  should  present  he  could  afforde, 
To  that  he  coulde  afforde  his  will  was  bente, 
His  will  was  followed  with  performinge  worde ; 
Lett  this  suffice,  by  this  conceave  the  rest, 
He  should,  he  could,  he  would,  he  did  the  best. 


NOTE. 
TxJRNBULL  badly  misprints  '  This'  for  '  His'  in  st.  iv.  line  4. 


G. 


FORTUNE'S  FALSEHOODE. 

In  worldly  nierymcntes  lurketh  much  misery, 
Sly  fortune's  subtilltyes,  in  baytes  of  happynes 
Shroude  hookes,  that  swallowed  without  recoverye, 
Murder  the  innocent  with  mortall  heavynes. 

Shee  sootheth  appetites  with  pleasing  vanityes, 
Till  they  be  conquered  with  cloaked  tyrannye ; 
Then  chaunging  countenance,  with  open  enmyties 
She  tryumphes  over  them,  scorninge  their  slavery. 


fortune's  falsbhoodk.  67 

With  favvTiinge  flattery  deathe's  dore  she  openeth, 
Alluring  passingers  to  blody  destinye ; 
In  offers  bountifull,  in  proofe  she  beggereth, 
Men's  ruins  registring  her  false  felicitye. 

Her  hopes  are  fastned  in  blisse  that  vanisheth, 
Her  smart  inherited  with  sure  possession ; 
Constant  in  crueltye,  she  never  altereth 
But  from  one  violence  to  more  oppression. 

To  those  that  foUowe  her,  favours  are  measured, 
As  easie  premisses  to  hard  conclusions  ; 
With  bitter  corrosives  her  joyes  are  seasoned, 
Her  highest  benefittes  are  but  illusions. 

Her  wayes  a  laberinth  of  wandring  passages, 
Fooles'  comon  pilgrimage  to  cursed  deityes ; 
Whose  fonde  devotion  and  idle  menages 
Are  wag'd  with  wearynes  in  fruitles  drudgeries. 

Blynde  in  her  favorites'  foolish  election, 
Chaunce  is  her  arbiter  in  giving  dignitye. 
Her  choyse  of  vicious,  shewes  most  discretion, 
Sith  welth  the  vertuous  might  wrest  from  piety. 

To  humble  suppliants  tyran  most  obstinate, 
She  sutors  answereth  with  contrarietyes  ; 
Proud  with  peticion,  untaught  to  mitigate 
Rigour  with  clemencye  in  hardest  cruelties. 


68  SCORNE  NOT  THE  LEASTE. 

Like  tigre  fugitive  from  the  ambitious, 
Like  weeping  crocodile  to  scornefull  enymics, 
Suyng  for  amity  where  she  is  odious, 
But  to  her  followers  forswering  curtesies. 

IS'o  wynde  so  changeable,  no  sea  so  wavcringe, 
As  giddy  fortune  in  reeling  varietyes  ; 
Nowe  madd,  now  mercifull,  now  ferce,  now  favoring, 
In  all  thinges  mutable  but  mutabilities. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

One  of  Turnbull's  most  egi-egious  misprints  is  '  Flye'  for 
'  Sly'  in  st.  i.  line  2  :  and  again  his  (;)  after  '  bapiiiness'  instead 
of  linking  it  on  to  '  Sbroude  liookes,'  as  in  1596 :  oiu'  ms.  has 
'  shrouds.'  Once  more,  in  st.  vii.  line  2,  he  confuses  all  by  print- 
ing '  in'  for  '  is.' 

'  Menage'  (in  st.  vi.  line  3)  refers  to  the  management  of  the 
horse  in  giving  him  studied  paces  and  action,  and  therefore 
may  he  r=  studied  movements. 

Our  MS.  (in  st.  x.  line  2)  by  '  varietyes'  corrects  the  lacking 
syllable  in  Turnbull's  '  vanities  :'  so  too  in  1596.  Our  ms.  is 
corrected  by  S.  to  '  varietyes'  from  '  vanityes.'  G. 


SCOENE  NOT  THE  LEASTE. 

Where  wardes  are  weake  and  foes  encountring,  strong, 
Where  mightier  do  assult  then  do  defend, 
The  feebler  part  putts  upp  enforced  wronge. 
And  silent  sees  that  speech  could  not  amend ; 
Yet  higher  poures  must  think  though  they  repine. 
When  simne  is  sett,  the  little  starres  will  shyne. 


SCORNE  NOT  THE  LEASTE.  G9 

While  pyke  doth  range  the  seely  tench  doth  flye, 
And  crouch  in  privy  creekes  with  smaller  fishc ; 
Yet  pikes  are  caught  when  little  fish  go  by, 
These  fleete  afloate  while  those  do  fill  the  dish. 
There  is  a  tynie  even  for  the  worme  to  creepe, 
And  sucke  the  dewe  while  all  her  foes  do  sleepo. 

The  merlen  cannot  ever  sore  on  highe, 
Nor  greedy  grayhounde  stiU  pursue  the  chase  ; 
The  tender  larke  will  finde  a  tyme  to  flye, 
And  fearefull  hare  to  runne  a  quiet  race. 
He  that  high  grouth  on  cedars  did  bestowe, 
Gave  also  lowly  mushrumpes  leave  to  growe. 

In  Aman's  pompe  poore  Mardocheus  wept, 
Yet  God  did  turne  his  fate  upon  his  foe ; 
The  lazar  pynd  while  Dives'  feast  was  kept, 
Yett  he  to  heaven,  to  hell  did  Dives  goe. 
We  trample  grasse  and  prize  the  floures  of  Maye, 
Yet  grasse  is  greene  when  flowers  do  fade  awaye. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  St.  i.  line  2,  '  assult'  is  =  assault  (as  in  1596).  Line  4, 
'  that.'  It  is  perhaps  worth  notice  here,  that  Southwell  con- 
stantly uses  '  that'  where  we  would  use  '  what'  or  '  that  that' 
or  '  that  which,'  and  this,  as  in  the  present  instance,  causes 
some  obscurity.  See  other  examples  in  A  Child  my  Choice 
(st.  i.  line  1),  What  Joy  to  Live  (st.  v.  lines  2-4,  et  alibi).  It  is 
used  also  as  we  should  '  who,'  as  in  Christe's  Return  out  of  Egypt 
(st.  i.  line  5).  In  the  same,  line  5,  our  ms.,  like  1596,  reads 
'  must,'  not  as  in  Turnbull  '  most,'  and  a  meaning  is  attain- 
able with  this  correction,  i.e.  the  higher  powers  when  fallen 


70  A  CIIILDE  MY  CHOYSE. 

'  think'  of  the  '  little  stars'  shining,  while  they,  represented  by 
the  gi-eat  '  sun,'  are  sunk.  But  query — is  '  think'  a  misprint 
for  '  sink,'  and  the  meaning  '  Yet,  higher  powers  most  sink, 
though  they  repine'  {i.e.  the  feebler  part)  ?  Cf. 

'  Their  fall  is  worst  that  from  the  height 
Of  greatest  honours  shde  ;' 

and  for  other  difficult  and  somewhat  similar  pronominal  uses, 
see  our  relative  notes  on  St.  Peter's  Complaint.  As  '  most'  is 
simply  Tuknbull's  blunder,  I  prefer  the  reading  of  our  text. 

In  st.  ii.  line  5,  even  is  =  e'en.  In  st.  iii.  line  1,  in  1596  is 
spelled  '  marline,'  in  Additional  mss.  10.422  '  merlyn,'  and  mis- 
printed '  martin'  by  Turnbull.  Merlin  or  marline  is  the  hawk. 
In  st.  iii.  line  6,  '  mushrumpes' =  mushrooms :  so  in  1596,  as 
well  as  Additional  MS.  10.422.  In  st.  iv.  line  1,  in  1596,  the 
name  is  Haman :  but  Aman  is  in  the  Vulgate.   In  =  during.  G. 


A  CHILDE  MY  CHOYSE. 

Lett  folly  praise  that  phancy  loves,  I  praise  and  love 

that  Chilcle 
Whose  hart  no  thought,  whose  tongue  no  word,  whose 

hand  no  dede  defilde. 
I  praise  Him  most,  I  love  Him  best,  all  prayse  and 

love  is  His ; 
While  Him  I  love,  in  Him  I  live,  and  caimot  lyve 

amisse. 
Love's  sweetest  mark,  lavde's  highest  theme,  man's  most 

desirM  ligl^t, 
To  love  Him  hfe,  to  leave  Him  death,  to  live  in  Him 

deli"hte. 


A  CHILDE  MY  CHOYSE.  71 

Ho  myne  by  gift,  I  His  by  debt,  thus  ech  to  other 

dewe, 
First  frende  He  was,  best  frende  He  is,  all  tymes  will 

try  Him  trewe. 
Though  yonge,  yet  wise,  though  small,  yet  stronge; 

though  man,  yet  God  He  is  ; 
As  wise  He  knowes,  as  stronge  He  can,  as  God  He  loves 

to  blisse. 
His  knowledge  rules.  His  strength  defendes,  His  love 

doth  cherish  all ; 
His  birth  our  joy.  His  life  our  light,  His  death  our  end 

of  thrall, 
Alas  !  He  weepes.  He  sighes.  He  pantes,  yet  do  His 

angells  singe ; 
Out  of  His  teares,  His  sighes  and  throbbs,  doth  bud  a 

joy  full  springe. 
Almighty  Babe,  Whose  tender  armes  can  force  all  foes 

to  flye. 
Correct  my  faultes,  protect  my  life,  direct  me  when  I 

dye  ! 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  our  MS.  (to  which  we  adhere)  there  is  no  division  into 
stanzas  of  four  short  lines  each  ;  nor  in  1596. 
Line  2,  Turnbull  misprints  '  head'  for  '  hand.' 
,,     3,  our  MS.  inadvertently  reads  '  this'  for  '  His.' 
,,     5,  Turnbull  most  unfortunately  misprints  '  land's'  for 
'  laud's.'     This  is  one  of  S.'s  own  corrections  in  our  ms. 
Line  7,  Turnbull,  '  Him'  for  '  His.' 
,,     8,  159G  reads  '  other's' =  other  is.  G. 


CONTENT  AND  PJTCHE. 

I  DWELL  in  Grace's  courte, 

Enriclid  with  Vertue's  rightes  ; 

Faith  guides  my  witt ;  Love  leades  my  will 
Hope  all  my  mynde  delightes. 

In  lowly  vales  I  mounto 

To  Pleasure's  highest  pitch  ; 
My  sely  shroud  trew  honors  bringes, 

My  poore  estate  is  ritch. 

My  conscience  is  my  crowne, 

Contented  thoughts  my  rest ; 
My  hart  is  happy  in  it  selfe, 

My  blisse  is  in  my  breste. 

Enoughe,  I  recken  welthe ; 

A  meane  the  surest  lott, 
That  lyes  too  highc  for  base  contempt, 

Too  lowe  for  envye's  shott. 

My  wishes  are  but  fewe, 

All  easye  to  fullfill, 
I  make  the  lymits  of  my  poure 

The  bounds  unto  my  will. 


CONTENT  AND  RITCHB.  73 

I  have  no  hopes,  but  one, 

Wliich  is  of  heavenly  raigne ; 
Effects  atteynd,  or  not  desird, 

All  lower  hopes  refrayne. 

I  feele  no  care  of  coyne, 

Well-dooing  is  my  welth  ; 
My  mynd  to  me  an  empire  is, 

While  grace  afFordeth  helth. 

I  clipp  high-clyming  thoughtes  : 

The  winges  of  swelling  pride ; 
Their  fall  is  worst,  that  from  the  heyghtli 

Of  greatest  honours  slyde. 

Sith  sayles  of  largest  size 

The  storm  e  doth  soonest  teare, 
I  beare  so  lowe  and  smale  a  sayle 

As  freeth  me  from  feare. 

I  wrastle  not  Avith  rage, 

While  Furie's  flame  doth  burne  ; 
It  is  in  vayne  to  stopp  the  streame 

Untill  the  tide  do  turne. 

But  Avhen  the  flame  is  out. 

And  ebbing  wrath  doth  end, 
I  turne  a  late  enraged  foe 

Into  a  quiott  freude. 


74  CONTENT  AND  RITCIIE. 

And  taught  with  often  proofe, 

A  tempered  cahne  I  finde 
To  be  most  solace  to  it  self, 

Best  cure  for  angry  mynde. 

Spare  diett  is  my  fare, 

My  clothes  more  fitt  then  fine  ; 
I  knowe  I  feede  and  cloth  a  foe 

That  pampred  would  repine. 

I  envye  not  their  happ, 

Whome  favour  doth  advance  ; 

I  take  no  pleasure  in  their  payne, 
That  have  lesse  happy  chaunce. 

To  rise  by  others'  fall 

I  deeme  a  loosing  gaine ; 
All  states  with  others'  ruyns  built, 

To  ruyne  runne  amaygne. 

No  chaunge  of  Fortune's  calmes 
Can  cast  my  comfortes  downe ; 

When  Fortune  sniyles,  I  smile  to  thinkf 
How  quickly  she  will  frowne. 

And  when  in  froward  moode 
She  prooves  an  angry  foe, 

Smale  gayne  I  found  to  lett  her  come, 
Lesse  losse  to  let  her  goe. 


LOSSE  IN  DEL  A  YE.  75 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

TuRNBULL  has  some  very  careless  misprints  in  this  iwcm  : 
e.f/.  St.  ii.  line  4,  'to'  for  'is:'  st.  ix.  line  4,  our  ms.  spells 
'  freeeth,'  the  third  '  e'  inserted  by  S. :  '  attend'  for  '  atteynd' 
=  attained  (as  in  1596) :  st.  xvi.  line  1,  '  chance'  for  '  chaunge.' 

With  reference  to  the  line, 

'  My  myiicl  to  me  an  empii-e  is'  (st.  vii.  line  3), 
it  is  interesting  to  come  on  another  reminiscence  of  Sir  Edward 
Dyer,  whose  celebrated  poem  '  My  mynde  to  me  a  kingdome  is' 
was  doubtless  in  our  Poet's  mind  at  the  moment.  (See  our 
collection  of  Dyer's  Poems.)  For  more  on  this,  and  imitations, 
consult  our  Memorial-Introduction.  G. 


LOSSE  m  DELAYE. 

Shunne  delayes,  they  breede  remorse  ; 

Take  thy  time  while  time  doth  serve  thee  ; 
Creepinge  snayles  have  weakest  force, 

Fly  their  fault  lest  thou  rej^eiit  thee. 
Good  is  best  when  soonest  wroughte, 
Lingred  labours  come  to  noughts. 

Hoyse  upp  sale  while  gale  doth  last, 

Tyde  and  winde  stay  no  man's  pleasure  ; 

Seeke  not  tynie  when  tyme  is  paste, 
Sober  speede  is  wisdom's  leysure. 

After-wittes  are  deerely  boughte, 

Lett  thy  forewytt  guide  thy  thoughte. 


76  LOSSE  IN  DELAYE. 

Tyme  weares  all  his  lockes  before, 
Take  tliy  houkl  upon  his  forehead  ; 

When  he  ilyes  he  turnes  no  more, 
And  hehinde  his  scalpe  is  naked. 

Workes  adjourn'd  have  many  staies. 

Long  demurres  hreede  new  delayes. 

Seeke  thy  salve  while  sore  is  grene, 

Festred  woundes  aske  deeper  launcing  ; 

After-cures  are  seldome  seene. 

Often  sought  scarse  ever  chancinge. 

Tyme  and  place  give  best  advice, 

Out  of  season,  out  of  price. 

Crush  the  serpent  in  the  head, 

Breake  ill  egges  ere  they  be  hatched  ; 

Kill  bad  chekins  in  the  tredd, 

Fligg,  they  hardly  can  be  catched. 

In  the  risinge  stifle  ill, 

Lest  it  growe  against  thy  wiU. 

Droppes  do  perce  the  stubborne  flynte, 
Is'ot  by  force  but  often  fallinge ; 

Custome  kills  with  feeble  dinte. 

More  by  use  then  strength  prevayling. 

Single  sandes  have  little  weighte, 

Many  make  a  drowninge  freighte. 

Tender  twigges  are  bent  with  ease, 

Aged  trees  do  breake  with  bendmg  ; 


LOSSE  IN  DKLAYE.  77 

Younge  desires  make  little  prease, 

Grouth  (loth  make  them  past  amendiiige. 
Happy  man,  that  soone  doth  knocke 
Babell  babes  againste  the  rocke  ! 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTKATIUNS. 

TuRNBULL  reads  in  et.  i.  line  2,  '  is  lent'  for  '  cloth  serve  •'  but 
our  MS.  and  Additional  ms.  10.422,  and  1596  and  1630,  have  the 
latter. 

In  St.  V.  line  4,  Tuenbull  'improves'  the  author's  own  word 
'  fligg'  into  '  Fledged ;'  and  in  st.  vi.  line  4,  stupidly  reads  '  and 
vailing'  for  '  prevailing ;'  and  line  6,  '  di-awing'  for  '  drowning.' 

In  St.  ii.  line  5,  '  after- witte'  is  =  wisdom  after  the  fact,  not 
second-thoughts. 

In  St.  V.  Une  2, '  ill  eggs'  =  eggs  of  noxious  bii-ds  or  vermin. 
Or  IS  the  idea  a  continuance  of  that  in  the  previous  line  and 
the  reference  to  the  egg-like  casing  of  the  young  scorpion,'as  in 
St.  Luke  XI.  12,  '  If  he  shall  ask  an  egg,  will  he  offer  him  a  ser- 
pent (scorpion)  ?'  I  have  seen  such  '  eggs'  as  you  could  hardly 
distinguish  them  from  a  pigeon's.  Or  combining  the  two  the 
allusion  underlying  may  be  to  the  belief  that  asps  when  hatched 
kill  whatever  had  sat  on  the  eggs.  '  And  as  he  [Plinius]  saith, 
it  happeneth  sometime,  that  a  venemous  frogge  that  is  caUed 
rubeta,  findeth  the  egge  of  such  an  adder  [the  asins] ,  and  sit- 
teth  on  brood  thereon,  and  of  such  breeding  commeth  a  worme 
that  slayeth  with  blast  and  with  sight,  as  doth  the  cockatrice. 
The  worm  that  sitteth  so  on  brood,  and  bringeth  it  forth,  feel- 
eth  fii-st  all  y«  venim  of  his  matter  and  venime  :  for  when  it  is 
fii-st  hatcht,  bee  beholdeth  and  seeth  him  that  bringeth  him 
forth,  and  slayeth  him  in  that  wise,  as  he  sayeth'  (Batman  on 
Bartholome,  Ixix.  c.  80). 

Line  3,  '  tread' =:  conception. 

St.  vi.  line  3,  '  dint.'     See  relative  note  on,  elsewhere. 

Line  4,  Fligr/  or  flygge,  as  Bryddys,  maturus,  volatilis.  In 
Prompt.Parv.,  composed  by  a  Norfolk  man  (as  was  Southwell) 
Way  says/lioocd  is  still  used  there ;  and  Halliwell  gives  it  as 
used  in  Cheshire  and  the  North. 


*  O  LOVE  S  SERVILE  LOTT. 

St.  vii.  line  3,  prease  =  pressure.     See  Wright,  s.  v. 

Line  6,  Tuknbull  misprints  'Babel's.'  Babel,  as  elsewhere 
Jesse  i"od,  &c.,  prefei-able  :  =  Hapjiy  he  that  destroys  wicked 
thoughts  ere  they  grow  up.  '  Filia  Babylonis  misera  !  .  .  .  Beatus 
qui  tenebit  et  allidet  iiarvulos  tuos  ad  petram.'  Ps.  cxxxvi.  8-9. 
(Ps.  cxxxvii.  Auth.  Vers.) — the  prophecy  being  in  Isaiah  xiii. 
16.  G. 


LOVE'S  SERVILE  LOTT. 

Love  mistres  is  of  many  myndes, 

Yet  fewe  know  whome  they  serve  ; 

They  recken  least  how  little  love 
Their  service  doth  deserve. 

The  will  she  robbeth  from  the  witt, 
The  sence  from  reason's  lore  ; 

She  is  delightfull  in  the  ryne, 
Corrupted  in  the  core. 

She  shroudeth  Vice  in  Vertvie's  veyle, 

Pretendinge  good  in  ill ; 
She  offreth  joy,  afFordeth  greife, 

A  kisse,  where  she  doth  kill. 

A  honye-shoure  raynes  from  her  lippcs, 
Sweete  lightes  shyne  in  her  face  ; 

She  hath  the  blushe  of  virgin  mynde, 
The  mynde  of  viper's  race. 


LOVE  S  SERVILE  LOTT. 

She  makes  thee  seeke  yet  feare  to  finde, 

To  finde  but  not  enjoye  ; 
In  many  frowns  some  glydinge  smyles 

She  yeldes,  to  more  annoye. 

She  woes  thee  to  come  nere  her  fire, 
Yet  doth  she  drawe  it  from  thee ; 

Farr  off  she  makes  thy  harte  to  frye, 
And  yet  to  freese  within  thee. 

She  letteth  fall  some  luringe  baytes, 

For  fooles  to  gather  upp ; 
To  sweete,  to  soure,  to  every  taste 

She  tempereth  her  ciipp. 

Softe  soules  she  bindes  in  tender  twist, 
Small  flyes  in  spynner's  webb  ; 

She  setts  afloate  some  luring  streames, 
But  makes  them  soone  to  ebb. 

Her  watery  eies  have  burninge  force, 
Her  fluddes  and  flames  conspire ; 
Teares  kindle  sparkes,  sobbes  fuell  are, 
'  And  sighes  do  blowe  her  fier. 

May  never  was  the  month  of  love, 

For  May  is  full  of  floures  ; 
But  rather  Aprill,  wett  by  kindc, 

For  love  is  full  of  sliowers. 


80  love's  servile  lott. 

Like  tyran,  crewell  woundes  she  gives, 
Like  surgeon,  salve  she  lends ; 

But  salve  and  sore  have  equall  force, 
For  death  is  both  their  ends. 

With  soothmg  wordes  enthralled  soules 
She  cheynes  in  servile  bandes ; 

Her  eye  in  silence  hath  a  speeche 
Wliich  eye  best  understands. 

Her  little  sweets  hath  many  soures ; 

Short  happ  imniortall  harmes  ; 
Her  loving  lookes  are  murdring  darts, 

Her  songes,  bewitchinge  charmes. 

Like  Winter  rose  and  Summer  yce,    , 
Her  joyes  are  still  untjanelye  ; 

Before  her  hope,  behinde  remorse, 
Fayre  first,  in  fyne  unseemely. 

Moodes,  passions,  phancies,  jelious  fitts, 
Attend  uppon  her  trayne  ; 

She  yeldeth  rest  without  repose, 
A  lieaven  in  hellish  payne. 

Her  house  is  sloth,  her  dore  deceite, 
And  slippery  hope  her  staires  ; 

Unbashfull  bouldnes  bidds  her  guestes, 
And  every  Vice  rcpayres. 


LIFE  IS  BUT  LOSSE.  81 

Her  diett  is  of  such  deliglites 

As  please,  till  they  be  past ; 
But  then,  the  poyson  kills  the  hart 

That  did  entise  the  tast. 

Her  sleepe  in  synne  doth  end  in  wrath, 

Eemorse  rings  her  awake ; 
Death  calls  her  upp,  Shame  drives  her  out, 

Despayres  her  uppshott  make. 

Plowe  not  the  seas,  sowe  not  the  sands, 

Leave  off  your  idle  payne ; 
Seeke  other  mistres  for  your  myndes, 

Love's  service  is  in  vayne. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 
TuRNBULL  has  some  sad  en-ors  in  this  poem :  e.g.  st.  iv.  line 
3,  '  virgin's'  for  '  vii-gin  :'  st.  vi.  line  2,  '  she'  di-opped  out ;  and 
so  in  Ime  4,  'in'  for  '  within  :'  st.  xi.  line  2,  '  salves'  for  '  salve  ■' 
St.  xii.  line  1,  '  soothed'  for  '  soothing.'  In  our  ms.  there  is  no 
division  into  stanzas.  As  before,  with  '  thee,'  I  print  '  off,'  not 
'  of,'  as  in  st.  vi.  line  3,  and  elsewhere.  G. 


LIFE  IS  BUT  LOSSE. 


By  force  I  live,  in  will  I  wish  to  dye ; 

In  playnte  I  passe  the  length  of  lingrmg  dayes ; 
Free  would  my  soule  from  mortall  body  flye, 

And  tredd  the  track  of  death's  desyred  waies  : 
Life  is  but  losse  where  death  is  deemed  gaine, 
And  loathed  pleasures  breed  displeasinge  payne. 


M 


82  LIFE  IS  BUT  LOSSE. 

Wlio  would  not  die  to  kill  all  murdringe  greives  1 
Or  who  would  live  in  never-dyinge  feares  ? 

Who  would  not  wish  his  treasure  safe  from  theeves, 
And  quite  his  hart  from  pangues,his  eyes  from  teares? 

Death  parteth  hut  two  ever-fightinge  foes, 

AVhose  civill  strife  doth  worke  our  endles  woes. 

Life  is  a  wandringe  course  to  doubtfull  reste, 
As  oft  a  cursed  rise  to  damninge  leape, 

As  happy  race  to  wynn  a  heavenly  creste; 

None  bemg  sure  what  finall  fruites  to  reape  : 

And  who  can  like  ha  such  a  life  to  dwell, 

Whose  wayes  are  straite  to  heaven,  hut  wide  to  hell  1 

Come,  cruell  death,  why  lingrest  thou  so  longe  1 

What  doth  Avithould  thy  dynte  from  fatall  stroke  1 

Nowe  prest  I  am,  alas  !  tbou  dost  me  wronge. 
To  lett  me  live,  more  anger  to  provoke  : 

Thy  right  is  had  when  thou  hast  stopt  my  breathe. 

Why  shouldst  thoue  stay  to  worke  my  dooble  deathe  1 

If  Saule's  attempt  in  fallinge  on  his  blade 

As  lawfull  were  as  eth  to  putt  in  ure. 
If  Sampson's  leave  a  comon  lawe  were  made, 

Of  AbelFs  lott,  if  all  that  woulde  were  sure, 
Then,  cruell  death,  thou  shouldst  the  tyran  play 
With  none  but  such  as  wished  for  delaye. 


LIFE  IS  BUT  LOSSE.  83 

Where  life  is  lov'd,  thou  ready  art  to  kill, 

And  to  abridge  with  sodayne  pangues  their  joy  ; 

Where  life  is  loath'd  thou  wilt  not  worke  their  will, 
But  dost  adjorne  their  death  to  their  annoye. 

To  some  thou  art  a  feirce  unbidden  guest, 

But  those  that  crave  thy  helpe  thou  helpest  lest. 

Avaunt,  0  vij^er  !  I  thy  spite  defye  : 

There  is  a  God  that  overrules  thy  force, 

Who  can  thy  weaj)ons  to  His  will  applie, 

And  shorten  or  j^rolonge  our  brittle  course. 

I  on  His  mercy,  not  thy  might,  relye ; 

To  Him  I  live,  for  Him  I  hope  to  die. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

The  lines  already  referred  to  ('  Mary  Magdalen's  Complaint 
at  Christ's  Death,'  st.  i.),  and  the  yearning  hope  of  martyi*dom 
expressed  at  the  close  of  this  infinitely  pathetic  poem,  render 
it  most  ijrobahle  that  these  semi-autobiogi-aphic  pieces  were 
composed  in  prison  after  the  Poet's  tortures.  The  same  may  he 
said  of  the  next,  '  I  die  alive.'  Strange  that  none  of  South- 
well's biogi-aphers  have  observed  these  affecting  personal  allu- 
sions.    See  our  Memoi-ial-Introduction. 

St.  i.  line  5,  '  deemed.'  See  relative  note  on  St.  Peter's 
Complaint,  in  the  '  Author  to  the  Reader,'  st.  i.  line  2. 

St.  iii.  line  2,  cf.  St.  Peter's  Comjil.  st.  xii.  line  1. 

Line  3,  an  allusion  to  the  Ppa^e7ou  and  arefpafof  of  1  Cor. 
ix.  24  -  5 ;  but  the  form  '  crest'  (independent  of  the  needed 
rhyme  with  '  rest')  suggested  by  the  rayed  aureole  of  the  pic- 
tured representations  of  saints. 

St.  V.  line  2  =  as  easily  put  in  use  or  practice. 

Line  3,  Toenbull  misprints  '  lean.'  Cf.  Judges  xv.  26, 
where  '  leave'  is  asked  and  given  to  '  lean'  or  '  feel'  the  temple- 
pillars.  G. 


I  DYE  ALIVE. 

0  LIFE  !  what  letts  thee  from  a  quicke  decease  ? 

0  death  !  what  drawes  thee  from  a  present  praye  1 
My  feast  is  done,  my  soule  would  be  at  ease, 

My  grace  is  saide ;  0  death  !  come  take  awaye. 

1  live,  but  such  a  life  as  ever  dyes ; 

1  dye,  but  such  a  death  as  never  endes ; 
My  death  to  end  my  dying  life  denyes, 

And  life  my  living  death  no  whitt  amends. 

Thus  still  I  dye,  yet  still  I  do  revive ; 

My  living  death  by  dying  life  is  fedd ; 
Grace  more  then  nature  kepes  my  hart  alive, 

Whose  idle  hopes  and  vayne  desires  are  deade. 

ISTot  where  I  breath,  but  where  I  love,  I  live ; 

l{ot  where  I  love,  but  where  I  am,  I  die ; 
The  life  I  wish,  must  future  glory  give, 

The  deaths  I  feele  in  present  daungers  lye. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  OTir  illustrated  quarto  edition  I  fm-nish  facsimile  of  a 
portion  of  the  MS.  of  this  poem,  showing  the  Author's  auto- 
gi-aph-correction  in  st.  iii.  line  1,  of  '  revive'  for  '  remayne,' 
which  also  agi-ees  with  1596.  See  our  Memorial-Inti-oduction 
and  Preface.  G. 


"'— -vv/*v<-  />v*v/-o  ^Nrtrt«- yv^'>*vj^  6<i^v-4|>v  Vvirta*  Un-oi*^^^^— 
_^/Xcr4w^*^f'^^^^  »-^\Bi^i\-  -^-^-^r^  fre^^n--i 


;^' 


\^l.  i/er  ■■  \^t    y,t'l  /ao-       "^^ 

;j\<c.tV  >«^*o  V;;'^  -.^»/» f^i-  ^^^  4^  <£r^'^  oc^©^ 

-  7      ^  ^       / 


WHAT  JOY  TO  LIVE. 

I  WAGE  no  waiT,  yet  peace  I  none  enjoy  ; 

I  hope,  I  feare,  I  fry  in  freesing  colde ; 
I  mount  in  mirth,  still  prostrate  in  annoye ; 

I  all  the  worlcle  imbrace  yet  nothing  holde. 
All  welth  is  want  Avhere  chefest  wishes  fayle, 
Yea  life  is  loath'd  where  love  may  not  prevayle. 

For  that  I  love  I  long,  but  that  I  lacke  ; 

That  others  love  I  loath,  and  that  I  have ; 
All  worldly  fraightes  to  me  are  deadly  wracke, 

Men  present  happ,  I  future  hopes  do  crave  : 
They,  loving  where  they  live,  long  life  require, 
To  live  where  best  I  love,  death  I  desire. 

Here  love  is  lent  for  loane  of  filthy  gayne ;        [shewe  ; 

Most  frendes  befrende  themselves  Avith  frendshipp's 
Here  plenty  perill,  want  doth  breede  disdayne  ; 

Cares  comon  are,  joyes  falty,  shorte  and  fewe ; 
Here  honour  envyde,  meanesse  is  dispis'd  ; 
Synn  deemed  solace,  vertue  Httle  prisde. 

Here  bewty  is  a  bayte  that,  swallowed,  choakes, 
A  treasure  sought  still  to  the  owner's  harmes ; 

A  light  that  eyes  to  murdring  sightes  provokes, 

A  grace  that  soides  enchaunts  with  mortall  charmes ; 


86  life's  death,  love's  life. 

A  luringe  ayme  to  Cupid's  fiery  flightes, 

A  LalefuU  blisse  that  damnes  wliere  it  delightes. 

0  who  would  live  so  many  deaths  to  trye  ? 

Where  will  doth  wish  that  wisdome  doth  reprove, 
Where  Kature  craves  that  grace  must  nedes  denye, 

Where  sence  doth  like  that  reason  cannot  love, 
Where  best  in  shewe  in  finall  proofe  is  worste, 
Where  pleasures  uppshott  is  to  dye  accurste. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

TuRNBULL  again  has  vexatious  misprints  in  this  poem:  e.g. 
st.  i.  line  4,  'If  for  '  I :'  st.  ii.  line  2,  '  other'  for  '  others  :'  st. 
iii.  line  1,  nonsensically,  '  Here  loan  is  lent  for  love  of  filthy- 
gain  :'  St.  iv.  line  2,  '  in'  for  '  to :'  line  5,  '  gain'  for  '  ayme,'  and 
'slights'  for  '  flightes.'  1596  agrees  with  our  ms.  In  st.  i.  line 
1,  oui-  MS.  inadvertently  reads  'nowe'  for  'none.'  G. 


LIFE'S  DEATH,  LOVE'S  LIFE. 

Who  lives  in  love,  loves  lest  to  live,  least 

And  longe  delayes  doth  rue, 
If  Him  he  love  by  Whome  he  lives, 

To  Whome  all  love  is  dewe. 

Who  for  our  love  did  choose  to  live, 

And  was  content  to  dye ; 
Who  lov'd  our  love  more  then  His  life. 

And  love  with  life  did  buy. 


life's  death,  love's  life.  87 

Let  us  in  life,  yea  with  our  life. 

Requite  His  livinge  love ; 
For  best  we  live  when  lest  we  live,  Imd 

If  love  our  life  remove. 

Where  love  is  hott,  life  hatefull  is. 

Their  groundes  do  not  agree  ; 
Love  where  it  loves,  life  where  it  lives, 

Desyreth  most  to  bee. 

And  sith  love  is  not  where  it  lives, 

Nor  liveth  where  it  loves, 
Love  hateth  life  that  holdes  it  backo. 

And  death  it  best  approves. 

For  seldome  is  He  woonn  in  life 

Whome  love  doth  most  desire ; 
If  woonn  by  love,  yet  not  enjoyde. 

Till  mortall  life  expire. 

Life  out  of  earth  hath  no  abode. 
In  earth  love  hath  no  place ; 
Love  setled  hath  her  joyes  in  heaven, 
In  earth  life  all  her  grace. 

Mourne,  therefore,  no  true  lover's  death, 

Life  onely  him  annoy es  ; 
And  when  he  taketh  leave  of  life, 

Then  love  beginns  his  joyes. 


88  AT  HOME  IN  HEAVEN. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  st.  i.  line  1,  '  lest'  is=least,  as  in  1596.     In  st.  iii.  line  3, 
Tdrnbull  mispiints  '  best'  for  '  lest'  = '  least,'  as  before.  G. 


AT  HOME  IX  HEAVEN". 

Fayre  soule !  liow  long  shall  veyles  thy  graces  shroud  1 
How  long  shall  this  exile  withold  thy  right  1 

Wlien  will  thy  sunn  disperse  this  mortall  cloude, 
And  give  thy  glories  scope  to  blaze  their  light  1 

0  that  a  starr,  more  fitt  for  angells'  eyes, 

Should  pyne  in  earth,  not  shyne  ahove  the  skyes  ! 

Thy  ghostly  beauty  offred  force  to  God ; 

It  cheyned  Him  in  the  linckes  of  tender  love  ; 
It  woonn  His  will  with  man  to  make  aboade ; 

It  staid  His  sword,  and  did  His  wrath  remove  : 
It  made  the  rigour  of  His  justice  yelde. 
And  crowned  Mercy  empresse  of  the  feilde. 

This  lul'd  our  heavenly  Sampson  fast  asleepe, 
And  laid  Him  in  our  feeble  nature's  lapp  ; 

This  made  Him  under  mortall  loade  to  creepe, 
And  in  our  flesh  His  Godhead  to  enwrai:)p ; 

This  made  Him  sojourne  with  us  in  exile, 

And  not  disdayne  our  titles  in  His  style. 


AT  HOME  Ii\  HEAVEN.  §9 

This  brought  Him  from  the  rancks  of  heavenly  quires 
Into  this  vale  of  teares  and  cursed  soyle  ; 

From  fioures  of  grace  into  a  world  of  briers, 

From  life  to  death,  from  blisse  to  balefull  toyle. 

This  made  Him  wander  in  our  pilgrim-weede. 

And  tast  our  tormentes  to  releive  our  neede. 

O  soule  !  do  not  thy  noble  thoughtes  abase, 
To  loose  thy  loves  in  any  mortall  wight ; 

Content  thy  eye  at  home  with,  native  grace, 
Sith  God  Himself  is  ravisht  with  thy  sight ; 

If  on  thy  bewty  God  enamored  be, 

Base  be  thy  love  of  any  lesse  then  He. 

Give  not  assent  to  muddy-mynded  skill, 

That  deemes  the  feature  of  a  pleasing  face 

To  be  the  sweetest  bayte  to  lure  the  will ; 

Not  valewing  right  the  worth  of  ghostly  grace  ; 

Let  God's  and  angel  Is'  censure  wynne  beleife. 

That  of  all  bewtyes  judge  our  soules  the  cheife. 

Queue  Hester  was  of  rare  and  peerolesse  hew. 
And  Judith  once  for  bewty  bare  the  vaunt ; 

But  he  that  could  our  soules'  endowments  vew. 

Would  soone  to  soules  the  crowne  of  beuty  graunt. 

0  soule  !  out  of  thy  self  seeke  God  alone  : 

Grace  more  then  thyne,  but  God's,  the  world  hath  none. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 
TuENBULL  has  one  of  his  most  careless  misprints  in  st.  ii. 

X 


90  LEWD  LOVE  IS  LUSSE. 

1.  5,  '  vigour'  for  '  rigour.'  St.  v.  line  6,  in  1596  reads  '  is'  for 
'  be.'  In  st.  v'ii.  line  2,  '  bare  the  vaunt,'  the  sense  answers  to 
the  saying  of  the  Assja-ians  in  Judith  xi.  19  :  '  Non  est  talis 
mulier  super  terram  in  aspectu,  in  pulchritudine,  et  in  sensu 
verborum.'  It  seems  clear  that  '  vaunt'  here  is=the  van  or 
fore-front.  Of.  the  parallel  phi-ases,  '  bear  the  bell,'  and  '  bear 
the  mastership.'  I  have  not  met  before  or  elsewhere  with 
'  vaunt'  as  thus  used.  But  see  our  Memorial-Introduction  on 
Southwell  and  Shakespeare.  G. 


LEWI)  LOVE  IS  LOSSE. 

Misdeeming  eye  !  that  stoopest  to  the  lure 

Ofmortall  worthes,  not  worth  so  worthy  love; 

All  beautye's  base,  all  graces  are  impure, 

That  do  thy  erring  thoughtes  from  God  remove. 

Sparkes  to  the  fire,  the  bearaes  yeld  to  the  sunne, 

All  grace  to  God,  from  Whome  all  graces  runne. 

If  picture  move,  more  shoiild  the  paterne  please ; 

1^0  shadow  can  with  shadowed  thinge  compare, 
And  fayrest  shapes,  whereon  our  loves  do  ceaze, 

But  sely  signes  of  God's  high  beautyes  are. 
Go,  sterving  sense,  feede  thou  on  earthly  maste  ; 
Trewe  love,  in  heaven  seeke  thou  thy  sweete  repast. 

Gleane  not  in  ban-ayne  soyle  these  ofFall-eares, 

Sith  reape  thou  mayst  whole  harvests  of  delighte  ; 

Base  joyes  -with  greifes,  bad  hopes  do  end  in  feares, 
Lewd  love  with  losse,  evill  peace  with  dedly  fighte  : 


LEWD  LOVE  IS  LOSSE.  91 

God's  love  alone  doth  end  with  endlesse  ease, 
Whose  joyes  in  hope,  whose  hope  concludes  in  peace. 

Lett  not  the  luringe  trayne  of  phansies  trapp. 
Or  gracious  features,  proofes  of  Nature's  skill, 

LuU  Season's  force  asleepe  in  Error's  laj^p, 
Or  drawe  thy  witt  to  bent  of  wanton  will. 

The  fayrest  floures  have  not  the  sweetest  smell ; 

A  seeminge  heaven  proves  oft  a  damninge  hell. 

Selfe-pleasing  soules,  that  play  with  beautye's  bayt, 
In  shyning  shroud  may  swallowe  fatall  hooke ; 

Where  eager  sight  on  semblant  faire  doth  waitc, 
A  locke  it  proves,  that  first  was  but  a  looke  : 

The  tishe  with  ease  into  the  nett  doth  glyde, 

But  to  gett  out  the  waie  is  not  so  wide. 

So  long  the  fly  doth  dally  with  the  flame, 
Untill  his  singed  winges  do  force  his  fall ; 

So  long  the  eye  doth  foUowe  phancie's  game, 
Till  love  hath  left  the  hart  in  heavy  thrall. 

Soone  may  the  mynde  be  cast  in  Cupide's  gaile, 

But  hard  it  is  imprisoned  thoughtes  to  baylc. 

0  loath  that  love  whose  finall  ayme  is  luste, 
Moth  of  the  mind,  eclipse  of  reason's  lighte; 

The  grave  of  grace,  the  mole  of  Nature's  rust, 
The  wrack  of  witt,  the  wronge  of  every  right. 

In  summe,  an  eviU  whose  harmes  no  tongue  can  tell ; 

In  which  to  live  is  death,  to  die  is  hell. 


92  love's  gardyne  greife. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


TuRNBULL,  in  St.  ii.  line  4,  misprints  '  folly'  for  '  sely ;'  on 
the  latter  see  our  relative  note  on  '  I  die  without  desert'  (st.  i. 
line  4).  He  also  makes  nonsense  of  st.  ii.  line  6,  by  misprint- 
ing 'is'  for  'in.'  In  st.  v.  line  3,  our  ms.  miswrites  'or'  for  'on.' 

In  st.  vii.  line  3,  '  inole  of  Nature's  rust'  is  not  inoles  a  heap, 
nor  yet  mole  a  body-stain,  but  the  mola  oi  Pliny  and  French 
mole,  a  false  conception,  or  shapeless,  senseless  mass  of  fleshy 
matter=the  moon-calf  of  our  ancestors.  Marvell  uses  it  in 
the  same  sense  in  Appletou  House, 

'  What  need  of  all  this  marble  crust 
V  impare  the  wanton  mole  of  dust ;' 

and  by  early  medical  writers.     This  poem,  in  1616  and  1620 
editions,  is  headed  '  S.  Mary  Magdalen's  Traunce.'  G. 


LOVE'S  GAEDYN^E  GEEIFE. 

Vaynb  loves,  avauiit !  infamous  is  your  pleasure, 

Your  joye  deceite ; 
Your  Jewells  jestes,  and  worthies  trash  your  treasure, 

Fooles'  common  baite. 
Your  pallace  is  a  prison  that  allureth 
To  sweete  mishapp,  and  rest  that  payne  procureth. 

Your  garden,  greif  hedgd  in  with  thornes  of  envye 

And  stakes  of  strife  ; 
Your  allies,  errour  gravelled  with  jelosye 

And  cares  of  life ; 
Your  bancks,  are  seates  enwrapt  with  shades  of  sadnes; 
Your  arbours,  breed  rough  fittes  of  raging  madnes. 


love's  gardyne  oueife.  93 

Your  Ledds,  are  sowen  with  seedus  of  all  iui(iuitye 

And  poysening  weedes, 
Whose  stalkes  cvill  thoughts,  whose  leaves  words  full 
of  vanitye, 

Whose  fruite  misdeedes ; 
Whose  sapp  is  synn,  whose  force  and  operacion, 
To  banish  grace  and  worke  the  soule's  damnation. 

Your  trees  are  dismall  plants  of  pyning  corrosives, 

Whose  root  is  ruth, 
Whose  bark  is  bale,  whose  tymber  stubborne  phantasies, 

Whose  pith  untruthe ; 
On  which  iia  liew  of  birdes  whose  voyce  deliteth, 
Of  guilty  conscience  screching  note  affrighteth. 

Your  coolest  sommer  gales  are  scalding  syghinges, 

Your  shoures  are  teares  ; 
Your  sweetest  smell  the  stench  of  synnfull  livinge, 

Your  favoures  feares ; 
Your  gardener  Satan,  all  you  reape  is  misery. 
Your  gayne  remorse  and  losse  of  all  felicitye. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

The  heading  is  =  Garden  [House]  Gx'eife.  The  Garden- 
House  was  the  name  of  the  country  or  suhurban  retreat  of 
well-to-do  citizens  or  town-dwellers,  and  was  often  made  a 
place  of  assignation  and  intrigue. 

On  '  infamous'  (st.  i.  line  1)  see  relative  note  on  '  St.  Peter's 
Complaint'  (st.  xxviii.  line  5). 

In  st.  ii.  line  3,  '  <allies'=:alleys  or  gi-een  embowered  walks. 
TuRNBULL,  in  st.  ii.  line  5,  misprints  'branches'  for  'bancks 
are.'  G. 


FEOM  FOETUNE'S  EEACH. 

Lett  fickle  Fortune  ninn  her  blyndest  race, 
I  setled  have  an  unremoved  mynde  ; 

I  scorne  to  be  the  game  of  Phancie's  chase, 

Or  fane  to  shewe  the  change  of  every  winde. 

Light  giddy  humours,  stinted  to  no  rest. 

Still  change  their  choyse,  yet  never  choose  the  best. 

My  choise  was  guided  by  foresightfull  heede, 
It  was  averred  with  approvinge  will ; 

It  shall  be  followed  with  performinge  deede. 

And  seald  with  vow,  till  death  the  chooser  kill. 

Yea  death,  though  finall  date  of  vayne  desires, 

Endes  not  my  choise,  which  with  no  tyme  expires. 


To  beautye's  fading  blisse  I  am  no  thrall ; 

I  bury  not  my  thoughtes  in  mettall  mynes ; 
I  ayme  not  at  such  fame  as  feareth  fall  ; 

I  seeke  and  finde  a  light  that  ever  shynes  : 
Whose  glorious  beames  display  such  heavenly  sightes. 
As  yeld  my  soule  the  summe  of  all  delightes. 


FROM  fortune's  REACH.  95 

My  light  to  love,  my  love  to  life,  dotli  guide, — 
To  life  that  lives  by  love,  and  loveth  lighte  ; 

By  love  of  one,  to  "VVhome  all  loves  are  tyd 
By  duest  debt,  and  never-equalld  right ; 

Eyes'  light,  harte's  love,  soule's  truest  life  He  is, 

Consorting  in  three  joyes  one  perfect  blisse. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  St.  i.  line  4,  '  vane'  (as  in  1596)  is  spelled  '  fane'  in  our 
MS.  and  in  Addl.  biss.  10.422. 

TuRNBULL  misprints  '  in'  for  '  to'  in  st.  i.  line  5,  and,  worse 
still,  '  light'  for  '  life'  in  st.  iv.  line  1,  and  line  3,  'to'  for  '  of.' 

The  '  mettall  mynes'  of  st.  iii.  line  2  is  a  cnrious  (incidental) 
indication  that  '  metal  mines'  began  in  Elizabeth's  reign  to  be 
earnestly  sought  after.  Shortly  thereafter  Sii*  Hugh  Myddle- 
ton,  to  whom  was  due  the  New  River  water-supply,  gained 
much  wealth  from  his  silver-lead  mines  in  Wales.  Samuel 
Smiles  has  recently  worthily  revived  the  memory  of  this  gi'eat 
Englishman. 


DYEE'S  PHANCY  TURNED  TO  A  SINNEK'S 
COMPLAINTE. 

He  that  his  myrth  hath  lost, 

Whose  comfort  is  to  rue, 
Whose  hope  is  falne,  whose  faith  is  cras'd, 

Whose  trust  is  founde  untrue  ; 

If  he  have  helde  them  deere, 

And  cannot  cease  to  mone, 
Come,  lett  him  take  his  place  by  me  ; 

He  shall  not  rue  alone. 

But  if  the  smallest  sweete 

Be  mixt  with  all  his  soure ; 
If  in  the  day,  the  moneth,  the  yere. 

He  feele  one  lightninge  houre. 

Then  rest  he  with  him  selfe  ; 

He  is  no  mate  for  me, 
Whose  tyme  in  teares,  whose  race  in  ruth, 

Whose  life  a  death  must  be. 

Yett  not  the  wished  deathe, 

That  feeles  no  plaint  or  laclce, 
That,  makinge  free  the  better  parte, 

Is  onely  Nature's  wracke  : 


dyer's  piianct  turned  to  complainte.  97 

O  no!  tliat  were  too  well ; 

My  death  is  of  the  mynde, 
That  allwaies  yeldes  extremest  pangues, 

Yet  threttens  worse  behinde. 

As  one  that  lives  in  shewe, 

And  inwardly  doth  dye  ; 
Whose  knowledge  is  a  bloodye  feilde, 

Where  Vertue  slayne  doth  lye  ; 

Whose  hart  the  alter  is 

And  hoast,  a  God  to  move  ; 
From  whome  my  evell  doth  feare  revenge, 

His  good  doth  promise  love. 

My  pliancies  are  like  thornes 

In  which  I  go  by  nighte ; 
;My  frighted  witts  are  like  a  hoaste 

That  force  hath  put  to  flighte. 

My  sence  is  Passion's  spie, 

My  thoughtes  like  ruyns  old, 
Which  sheAV  how  ftiire  the  building  was, 

While  grace  did  it  upholde. 

And  still  before  myne  eyes 

My  mortall  fall  they  laye ; . 
Whom  Grace  and  Yertue  once  advauncd, 

^ow  synne  hath  cast  away. 


98         dyer's  phancy  turned 

0  thoughtes !  no  thoughtes,  but  woundes, 

Sometyine  the  seate  of  joye, 
Sometyme  the  store  of  quiett  rest, 
But  now  of  all  annoye. 

1  sow'd  the  soyie  of  peace  ; 

My  hlisse  was  in  the  springe  ; 

And  day  by  day  the  fruite  I  eate, 

That  Vertue's  tree  did  bringe. 

To  nettles  no  we  my  come, 

My  feild  is  turn'd  to  flynte, 

Where  I  a  heavy  harvest  reape 
Of  cares  that  never  stynte. 

The  peace,  the  rest,  the  life. 

That  I  enjoy 'd  of  yore, 
Were  happy  lott,  but  by  their  losse 

My  smarte  doth  stinge  the  more. 

So  to  unhappye  menn. 

The  best  frames  to  the  worste ; 
0  tyme !  0  place !  where  thus  I  fell ; 

Deere  then,  but  now  accurste ! 

In  ivas,  stands  my  delighte, 
In  is  and  shall,  my  woe ; 
My  horror  fastned  in  the  yea  ; 
My  hope  hang'd  in  the  noe. 


TO  A  sinner's  complainte.  99 

Unworthy  of  releife, 

Tliat  craved  it  too  late, 
Too  late  I  finde,  (I  findo  too  well,) 

Too  well  stoode  my  estate. 

Behould,  such  is  the  ende 

That  pleasure  doth  procure, 
Of  nothing  els  but  care  and  plaint 

Can  she  the  mynde  assure. 

Forsaken  firste  by  grace, 

By  pleasure  now  forgotten, 
Her  payne  I  feele,  but  Grace's  wage 

Have  others  from  me  gotten. 

Then,  Grace  where  is  the  joye 

That  makes  thy  tormentes  sweete  1 

Where  is  the  cause  that  many  thought 
Their  deathes  through  thee  but  meete  1 

Wliere  thy  disdayne  of  synne. 

Thy  secreet  sweete  delite  ] 
Thy  sparkes  of  blisse,  thy  heavenly  raye.s, 

That  sliyned  erst  so  brighte  ] 

O  that  they  were  not  loste, 

Or  I  coulde  it  excuse  ; 
0  that  a  dreanie  of  feyncd  losse 

My  judgement  did  abuse! 


100  dyer's  phancy  turned 

O  frayle  inconstant  fleshe ! 

Soone  trapt  in  every  gynn ! 
Soone  -wrought  thus  to  betray  thy  soule, 

And  plunge  thy  self  in  synne ! 

Yett  hate  I  but  the  faulte, 

And  not  the  faltye  one, 
ISTe  can  I  rid  from  me  the  mate 

That  forceth  me  to  mono  ; 

To  moane  a  synner's  case, 

Then  wliich  was  never  worse, 

In  prince  or  poore,  in  yonge  or  old, 
In  blissd  or  full  of  curse. 

Yett  God's  must  I  romayne. 

By  death,  by  Avronge,  by  shame ; 

I  cannot  blott  out  of  my  harte 
That  gTace  wrote  in  His  name. 

I  cannot  sett  at  noughte 

Whome  I  have  held  so  deare ; 

I  cannot  make  Him  seeme  afarre, 
That  is  in  dede  so  neere. 

Not  that  I  looke  henceforthe 
For  love  that  erst  I  founde  ; 

Sith  that  I  brake  my  plighted  truth 
To  build  on  fickle  grounde. 


TO  A  sinner's  complainte.  101 

Yet  that  sliall  never  fayle 

Which  my  faith  bare  in  hande  ; 

I  gave  my  vow;  my  vow  gave  me  ; 
Both  vow  and  gift  shall  stande. 

But  since  that  I  have  synnd, 

And  scourge  none  is  too  ill, 
I  yeld  me  captive  to  my  curse, 

My  hard  fate  to  fullfill. 

The  solitarye  woode 

My  citye  shall  become ; 
The  darkest  denns  shall  be  my  lodge ; 

In  which  I  rest  or  come  : 

A  sandy  plott  my  borde. 

The  woormes  my  feast  shall  be, 
Wherewith  my  carcas  shall  be  fedd, 

Untill  they  feede  on  mee. 

My  teares  shall  be  my  wyne, 

My  bedd  a  craggy  rocke  : 
My  harmonye  the  serpente's  hysse, 

The  screeching  oule  my  clocke. 

My  exercise,  remorse 

And  dolefuU  sinners'  layes ; 
My  booke,  remembrance  of  my  crymes, 

And  faltes  of  former  dayes. 


102        dyer's  phanoy  turned  to  complainte. 

My  walke,  the  pathe  of  playnte ; 

My  prospect  into  hell, 
Where  Judas  and  his  cursed  crewe 

In  endles  paynes  do  dwell. 

And  though  I  seeme  to  use 

The  feyning  poet's  stile, 
To  figure  forth  my  carefull  plight, 

My  fall  and  my  exile  : 

Yet  is  my  greife  not  fayn'd, 

Wherein  I  sterve  and  pyne  ; 
Who  feeleth  most  shall  thinke  it  lest,  hast 

If  his  compare  with  myne. 

notes  and  illustrations. 

The  title  in  1596  is  simply  '  A  Pliansie  turned  to  a  Sinner's 
Complaint.'  In  the  Haeleian  ms.  it  is  '  Maister  diers  .  .  .  .' 
De.  Hannah,  in  his  Courtly  Poets  from  Raleigh  to  Montrose 
(1870),  has  given  Southwell's  poem,  along  with  Lord  Brooke's 
and  Sir  Edward  Dyer's.  Our  ms.  yields  cori-ections  of  all  previ- 
ous texts  ;  and  Dr.  Hannah  wiU  he  pleased  to  find  his  own  con- 
firmed. The  difference  hetween  a  mind  of  real  insight  and  a 
mere  pretender  could  not  he  hetter  illustrated  than  hy  a  com- 
parison of  the  poem  as  given  in  Courtly  Poets  and  Tuenbull's  : 
e.g.  the  latter,  in  st.  i.  line  3  reads  'salve'  for  'falne  :'  st.  iii. 
line  4,  '  lighting'  for  '  lightninge  :'  st.  iv.  line  4,  '  in'  for  '  a :' 
st.  V.  line  2,  '  in'  for  '  no:'  Dr.  Hannah  reads  here  '  pain'  for 
'  plaint ;'  but  our  ms.  and  Harleian  ms.  and  1596  agi-ee  in  read- 
ing '  plaint,'  which  is  also  a  favourite  word  with  our  Poet,  as  in 
this  very  piece  :  st.  vi.  et  alibi,  I  print  '  too,'  not  '  to :'  st.  xviii. 
line  2,  Dk.  Hannah  reads  '  is'  for  '  it'  by  inadvertence  :  st.  xxii. 
line  3 :  so  Dr.  Hannah  misreads  '  joys'  for  '  raycs,'  following 
1596;  but  'raycs,'  as  in  our  bis.  and  Haeleian,  is  preferable: 
st.  xxiv.  line  2,  Tuenbull  misprints  '  wrapt'  for  '  trai>t :'  st. 
XXV.  line  1,  ib.  '  have'  for  '  hate :'  I  have  adopted  '  Ne'  for  '  Nor' 


David's  peccavi.  103 

from  159G  here :  st.  xxx.  line  2,  ib.  '  has'  for  '  bare  :'  st.  xlii.  line 
3,  '  carefull'=full  of  cares,  as  in  Piiinkas  Flktcher:  st.  xliii. 
line  4=If  his  [lie]  compare. 

I  may  be  permitted  to  refer  for  more  on  the  series  of  poems 
of  which  this  forms  one,  to  my  Works  of  Lord  Brooke,  vol.  iii. 
pp.  145-154,  and  to  my  collected  Poems  of  Sir  Edward  Dyer  in 
Fuller  Worthies'  Miscellanies,  vol.  iv.  G. 


DAVID'S  PECCAVI. 


In  eaves  sole  sparowe  sitts  not  more  alone, 
Nov  mourning  pelican  in  desert  wilde, 

Than  sely  I,  that  solitary  mone, 

From  highest  hopes  to  hardest  happ  exild  : 

Sometyme,  0  blisfuU  tyme  !  was  Vertue's  meede 

Ayme  to  my  thoughtes,  guide  to  my  word  and  deede. 

But  feares  now  are  my  pheares,  greife  my  delight, 
My  teares  my  drinke,  my  famisht  thoughtes  my 
bredd ; 

Day  full  of  dumpes,  nurse  of  unrest  the  nighte, 
My  garmentes  gives,  a  bloody  feilde  my  bedd  ; 

My  sleape  is  rather  death  then  deathe's  allye, 

Yet  kil'd  with  murdring  pangues  I  cannot  dye. 

This  is  the  change  of  my  ill  changed  choise, 

Ruth  for  my  rest,  for  comfortes  cares  I  finde  ; 

To  pleasing  tunes  succeedes  a  playninge  voyce, 
The  dolefull  eccho  of  my  waylinge  minde  ; 

Which,  taught  to  know  the  worth  of  Vertue's  joyes, 

Doth  hate  it  self,  for  lovinge  phancie's  toyes. 


104  David's  peccavi. 

If  wiles  of  witt  had  overwroughte  my  will, 
Or  sutle  traynes  misledd  my  steppes  awrye, 

My  foyle  had  founde  excuse  in  want  of  skill, 
lU  deede  I  might,  though  not  ill  dome,  denye. 

But  witt  and  will  muste  nowe  confesse  with  shame. 

Both  deede  and  dome  to  have  deserved  blame. 

I  phancy  deem'd  fitt  guide  to  leade  my  waie. 
And  as  I  deem'd  I  did  pursue  her  track, 

Witt  lost  his  ayme  and  will  was  phancie's  pray  ; 
The  rebell  wonne,  the  ruler  went  to  wracke. 

But  now  sith  phancye  did  with  foUye  end, 

Witt  bought  with  losse,  wiU  taught  by  witt,  will  mend. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

The  title  in  1620  edition  is  '  St.  Peter's  Complaint :'  and 
with  it  may  be  compared  that  poem,  st.  xxviii.  and  others. 

St.  ii.  line  1,  '  pheares'^ companions  (as  a  husband). 

Line  4,  1596  speUs  '  giues,'  our  ms.  '  gives,'  Additional  ms. 
10.422  '  gyves,'  1630  '  gj'ues.'  Tuknbull  blunderingly  amends 
by  reading  '  give,'  not  seeing  that  the  word  is  '  gyves'=man- 
acles  or  chains. 

St.  iii.  line  1,  1596  reads  '  chaunce'  for  '  change ;'  so  1630. 

St.  iv.  line  2,  Turnbull  again  provokes  us  with  misprinting 
'  away'  for  '  awrie.' 

St.  V.  line  2,  '  deem'd'=judged,  as  before.  Tuenbull  mis- 
prints '  In'  for  '  I.' 

Line  4,  1596  reads  '  rebels'  and  '  rulers.'  In  such  case  pro- 
bably '  faucyes,'  not  '  fancye,'  was  the  author's  word.  G. 


SYNNE'S  HEAVY  LOADE. 

O  Lord  !  my  sinne  doth  overchardge  Thy  breste, 
The  poyse  thereof  doth  force  Thy  knees  to  bowe  ; 

Yea,  flatt  Thou  fallest  with  my  faultes  oppreste, 

And  bloody  sweate  runnestricklingefromThybrowe : 

But  had  they  not  to  earth  thus  pressed  Thee, 

Much  more  they  woulde  in  hell  have  pestred  me. 

This  globe  of  earth  doth  Tliy  one  finger  propp. 

The  worlde  Thou  dost  within  Thy  hand  embrace ; 

Yet  all  this  waight,  of  sweat  drew  not  a  dropp, 

Nor  made  Thee  bowe,  much  lesse  fell  on  Thy  face  ; 

But  now  Thou  hast  a  loade  so  heavyc  founde, 

That  makes  Thee  bowe,  yea  flatt  fall  to  the  grounde. 


0  Synne  !  howe  huge  and  heavye  is  thy  waight, 
That  wayest  more  then  all  the  worlde  beside ; 

Of  which  when  Christ  had  taken  in  His  fraighte. 
The  poyse  thereof  His  flesh  coulde  not  abide. 

Alas  !  if  God  Himself  sincke  under  synne, 

What  will  become  of  man  that  dies  therein  1 

p 


lOG  synne's  heavy  loade. 

First  flatt  Thou  fellst  where  earth  did  Thee  receive, 
In  closett  pure  of  Marye's  virgin  breste  ; 

And  now  Thou  fallst,  of  earthe  to  take  Thy  leave, 
Thou  kissest  it  as  cause  of  Thy  unreste  : 

0  loving  Lord  !  that  so  dost  love  Thy  foe 

As  thus  to  kysse  the  grounds  where  he  doth  goe  ! 

Thou,  minded  in  Thy  heaven  our  earth  to  weare, 

Dost  prostrate  now  Thy  heaven  our  earth  to  blisse  ; 

As  God  to  earth  Thou  often  wert  severe. 

As  man  Thou  sealst  a  peace  with  bleedinge  kisse  : 

For  as  of  soules  Thou  common  father  art. 

So  is  she  mother  of  man's  other  parte. 

She  shortly  was  to  drincke  Thy  dearest  bloode. 
And  yelde  Thy  soule  awaye  to  Satan's  cave  ; 

She  shortly  was  Thy  cors  in  tombe  to  shroude, 
And  with  them  all  thy  Deitye  to  have  ; 

Now  then  in  one  Thou  joyntly  yealdest  all, 

That  severally  to  earth  should  shortely  fall. 

0  prostrate  Christ !  erect  my  croked  mynde  ; 

Lord !  lett  Thy  fall  my  flight  from  earth  obtayne  ; 
Or  if  I  still  in  Earth  must  nedes  be  shrynde. 

Then,  Lord  !  on  Earth  come  fall  yet  once  againe  ; 
And  ether  yelde  with  me  in  earthe  to  lye, 
Or  ols  with  Thee  to  take  me  to  the  skye  ! 


NEW  PRINCE,  NEW  POMPE.  107 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  i.  1. 1,  Addl.  MS.  10.422  reads  'synnes,'  as  in  1596,  &c. 
St.  ii.  line  4,  Addl.  ms.  10.422  reads  '  Nee'  for  '  Nor,'  and 
1596 '  Ne.'  I  have  adopted  it  in  preference  to  '  Nor,'  as  in  Turn- 
boll  and  our  ms. 

St.  iii.  line  4,  '  poyse'  is  =:  poize.     I  note  this,  as  '  poise'  in 
the  present  day  gives  rather  the  idea  of  balance. 

St.  V.  line  6,  our  ms.  inadvertently  reads  '  the'  for  '  she.' 
St.  vi.  line  1,  Turnbull  misprints  '  the'  for  '  Thy.' 
Line  2,  our  ms.  inadvertently  reads  'awaye,'  and  Turnbull 
so  misjirints.    1596  and  1630  properly  have  'a  way' =  Earth  is 
to  yield  a  way  or  passage  for  thy  soul  to  Satan's  cave. 

Line  6,  again  Turnbull  misprints  '  several'  for  '  severally.' 
St.  vii.  line  B,  1596  reads  'Or  if  I  needes  must  still  in  eai*th 
'  G. 


NEW  PEINCE,  NEW  POMPE. 

Behould  a  sely  teuder  Babe, 
In  freesing  winter  nighte, 

In  homely  manger  trembling  lies ; 
Alas,  a  pitious  sighte  ! 

The  inns  are  full,  no  man  will  yelde 
This  little  pilgrime  bedd  ; 

But  forc'd  He  is  with  sely  beastes 
In  cribb  to  shroude  His  headd. 

Despise  not  Him  for  lyinge  there, 
First  "What  He  is  enquire ; 

An  orient  perle  is  often  founde 
In  depth  of  dirty  mire. 


108  NEW  PRINCE,  NEW  POMPE. 

Waye  not  His  cribb,  His  wodden  dislie, 
Nor  beastes  that  by  Him  feede  ; 

Way  not  His  mother's  poore  attire, 
Nor  Josephe's  simple  weede. 

This  stable  is  a  Prince's  conrte, 
The  cribb  His  chaire  of  State  ; 

The  beastes  are  parcell  of  Hin  pompe, 
The  wodden  dishe  His  plate. 

The  parsons  in  that  poore  attire 

His  royall  liveries  weare  ; 
The  Prince  Himself  is  come  from  heaven, 

This  pompe  is  prised  there. 

With  joy  approch,  0  Christian  wighte  ! 

Do  homage  to  thy  Kinge ; 
And  highly  prise  His  humble  pompe 

Which  He  from  heaven  doth  bringe. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  9,  1596  reads  '  Despise  Him  not :'  line  24,  Tuenbull 
misprints  '  praised'  for  '  prized :'  line  27,  Tuknbull,  after  1630 
and  1634,  misprints  '  praise'  for  '  prise.'  I  read  '  His'  for  '  this ;' 
a  frequent  misprint. 

On  '  siUy'  (line  1)  see  relative  note  onward,  on  '  I  die  without 
dessert'  (line  4).  G. 


THE  BUENING  BABE. 

As  I  in  hoary  Winter's  night  stood  shivermgo  in  the 

snowe, 
Surpris'd  I  was  with  sodaync  heat,  which  made  my 

hart  to  glowe ; 
And  liftinge  upp  a  fearefull  eye  to  vewe  what  fire  was 

« 

nere, 
A  prety  Babe  all  burninge  bright,  did  in  the  ayre  ap- 

peare, 
Who  scorched  with  excessive  heate,  such  floodes  of  teares 

did  shedd, 
As  though  His  floodes  should  quench  His  flames  which 

with  His  teares  were  fedd  ; 
Alas !  quoth  He,  but  newly  borne,  in  fiery  heates  I  frye, 
Yet  none  approch  to  warme  their  hartes  or  feele  my  fire 

but  I  ! 
My  faultles  brest  the  fornace  is,  the  fuell  woundinge 

thornes. 
Love  is  the  fire,  and  sighes  the  smoke,  the  ashes  shame 

and  scorn  es  ; 
The  fuell  Justice  layeth  on,  and  Mercy  blowes  the 

coales, 
The  mettall  in  this  fornace  wrought  are  men's  defiled 
soules. 


110  NEW  HEAVEN,  NEW  WARRE. 

For  which,  as  nowe  on  fire  I  am,  to  worke  them  to  their 

good, 
So  will  I  melt  into  a  bath  to  washe  them  in  My  bloode : 
With  this  He  vanisht  out  of  sight,  and  swiftly  shroncke 

awaye, 
And  straight  I  caRhd  unto  mynde  that  it  was  Christmas- 

daye. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

See  our  Meinorial-Introductiou  for  Ben  Jonson's  '  Conver- 
sation' with  Drummond  of  Hawtliornden  on  this  poem. 

Line  5,  Turnbull  misreads  '  exceeding :'  line  6,  also  mis- 
reads '  with  what'  for  '  which  with.' 


NEW  HEAVEN,  NEW  WAEEE. 

Come  to  your  heaven,  yowe  heavenly  quu-es ! 
Earth  hath  the  heaven  of  your  desires ; 
Eemove  your  dwellinge  to  your  God, 
A  stall  is  nowe  His  beste  aboade  ; 
Sith  men  their  homage  do  denye. 
Come,  angells,  all  their  fault  supply. 

His  chilling  could  doth  heate  requu-e. 
Come,  seraphins,  in  liew  of  fire  ; 
This  little  ark  no  cover  hath, 
Let  cherubs'  winges  His  boody  swath  ; 


NEW  HEAVEN,  NEW  WARRE.  Ill 

Come,  Raphiell,  this  babe  must  eate, 
Prouide  our  little  Tobie  meate. 

Let  Gabriell  be  nowe  His  groome, 
That  first  tooke  upp  His  earthly  roome ; 
Let  Michell  stand  in  His  defence, 
Whome  love  hath  linckd  to  feeble  sence  ; 
Let  Graces  rocke,  when  He  doth  crye, 
And  angells  singe  His  lullybye. 

The  same  yow  sawe  in  heavenly  seate, 
Is  He  that  now  suckes  Marye's  teate  ; 
Agnize  your  Kinge  a  mortall  wighte. 
His  borowed  weede  letts  not  your  sight ; 
Come,  kysse  the  maunger  where  He  lies  ; 
That  is  your  blisse  aboue  the  skyes. 

This  little  babe  so  fewe  dales  olde. 
Is  come  to  rifle  Satan's  foulde ; 
All  hell  doth  at  His  presence  quake, 
Though  He  Him  self  for  cold  do  shake  ; 
For  in  this  weake  unarmed  wise 
The  gates  of  hell  He  will  surprise. 

"With  teares  He  fightes  and  wynnes  the  feild, 
His  naked  breste  standes  for  a  sheilde. 
His  battering  shott  are  babishe  cryes, 
His  arrowes,  lookes  of  weepinge  eyes, 
His  martiall  ensignes,  colde  and  neede, 
And  feeble  fleshe  His  warrier's  steede. 


112  NEW  HEAVEN,  NEW  WARRE. 

His  campe  is  pitched  in  a  stall, 

His  bulwarke  but  a  broken  wall. 

The  cribb  His  trench,  hay-stalkes  His  stakes, 

Of  shepeherdes  He  His  muster  makes  ; 

And  thus,  as  sure  His  foe  to  wounde, 

The  angells'  trumpes  alarum  sounde. 

My  soule,  with  Christ  joyne  thow  in  fighte ; 
Sticke  to  the  tents  that  He  hath  pight ; 
Within  His  cribb  is  sureste  warde, 
This  little  babe  will  be  thy  garde  ; 
If  thow  wilt  foyle  thy  foes  with  joye. 
Then  flitt  not  from  this  heavenly  boye. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  St.  i.  line  6,  Turnbull  misprints  '  faults,'  emptying  the 
expressiveness  :  st.  ii.  line  5,  Tobit  vi.  3-5  :  in  st.  iii.  line  G,  I 
adopt  'his'  for  'this'  from  1596:  in  st.  iv.  line  3, 'agnize'  is 
^acknowledge  or  recognize:  line  4,  letts  not  =  hinders  not: 
in  st.  vii.  line  2  there  is  a  B  placed  opposite  in  our  ms.— why, 
I  know  not :  in  same,  line  3,  Turnbdll  misprints  '  His'  for 
'  The :'  ih.  stakes  =  used  defensively  in  the  manner  of  palisades 
and  the  like  :  in  st.  viii.  line  2,  1596  reads  '  dight'  for  '  pight;' 
the  latter  =  pitched :  line  6  in  1596  reads  '  the'  for  '  this.'  G. 


in. 


M^ONI^. 


NOTE. 

The  original  title-page  of  Maeoniae  is  given  opposite  this  ; 
and  for  our  exemplar  of  the  exceedingly  rare  volume,  I  owe 
thanks  to  the  authorities  of  Jesus  College,  Oxford.  For  the 
bihliography  of  MiTBoniae  see  our  Preface. 

As  before  in  MjTtae,  I  continue  the  arrangement  of  1596, 
save  that  under  Mgeoniae  will  be  found  certain  poems  that  be- 
long to  this  division  rather  than  to  the  other  ;  as  pointed  out 
in  relative  notes,  and  in  the  Epistle  below. 

The  basis  of  our  text  is  the  Stonyhuest  ms.  :  and  in  Notes 
and  Illustrations  at  the  close  of  each  poem,  as  in  the  others,  are 
various  readings,  &c. 

The  following  Epistle  from  1595  Mseoniaj  will  best  find  place 
here : 

'  The  Printer  to  the  Gentlemen  Readers. — Hauing  beheld 
(kind  Gentlemen)  the  numberlesse  ludges  of  not  to  be  reckoned 
labom's,  with  what  kind  admiration  you  haue  entertained  the 
Diuine  Complaint  of  holy  Peter  ;  and  hauing  in  my  hands  cer- 
taine  especiall  Poems  and  diuine  Meditations,  full  as  woorthie, 
belonging  to  the  same,  I  thought  it  a  charitable  deede  to  giue 
them  life  in  your  memories,  which  els  should  die  in  an  obscure 
sacrifice.  Gently  imbrace  them,  gentle  censurers  of  gentle  in- 
deuors  :  so  shall  you  not  be  fantastike  in  diuersity  of  opinions, 
nor  contradict  your  resolues  by  denying  your  former  iudgements, 
but  stiU  bee  your  selues  discreetely  vertuous :  nor  could  I  other 
wish  but  that  the  courteous  reader  of  these  labors,  not  hauing 
already  bought  Peter's  Complaint,  would  not  for  so  small  a  mite 
of  money  loose  so  rich  a  treasure  of  heauenly  wisdome  as  these 
two  treatises  should  minister  unto  him,  the  one  so  needfully 
depending  vpon  the  other.  One  thing  amongst  the  rest  I  am 
to  admonish  thee  of,  that  hauing  in  this  treatise  read  Marie's 
Visitation,  the  next  that  should  follow  is  Christ's  Natiuity;  but 
being  afore  printed  in  the  end  of  Peter's  Complaint,  we  haue 
heere  of  purpose  omitted :  that  thoii  shouldest  not  be  abridged 
of  that  and  the  other  like  comforts  which  that  other  treatise 
profereth  thee.  Your's  (kind  Gentlemen)  in  all  his  abilities. 
I[ohn]  B[usbie].' 

Collation:  title-page  and  epistle,  4  pp. ;  Poems,  pp.  32  (4to). 
G. 


MceonicB. 


CERTAINE 

excellent  Poems  and  Spiri- 
tual! Hymnes  : 

Omitted  in  the  last  Impression  of  Peters 
Complaint;  being  fieedefull  there- 
vnto  to  be  annexed,  as  being  both  Di- 
uine  a?id  Wittie. 


All  composed  by  R.  S. 


Printer's  ornament. 


London 

Printed  by  Valentine  Sims,  for 
John  Biisbie. 

1595- 


THE  CONCEPTION  OF  OUR  LADIE. 

Our  second  Eve  putts  on  her  mortall  shrowde, 

Earth  breedes  a  heaven  for  God's  new  dwelling- 
place  ; 

Nowe  ryseth  upp  Elias'  little  cloude, 

That  growing  shall  distill  the  shoure  of  grace ; 

Her  being  now  begins,  who,  ere  she  ende, 

Shall  bringe  the  good  that  shall  our  evill  amende. 

Both  Grace  and  Nature  did  their  force  unite 

To  make  this  babe  the  summ  of  all  their  best ; 

Our  most,  her  lest,  our  million,  but  her  mite,  least 

She  was  at  easyest  rate  worth  all  the  reste  : 

What  Grace  to  men  or  angeUs  God  did  part, 

Was  all  united  in  this  infant's  hart. 

Fower  onely  wightes  bredd  without  fault  are  nam'd. 
And  all  the  rest  conceived  were  in  synne ; 

Without  both  man  and  wife  was  Adam  fram'd, 
Of  man,  but  not  of  wife,  did  Eve  beginne ; 

Wife  without  touch  of  man  Christ's  mother  was, 

Of  man  and  wife  this  babe  was  bredd  in  grace. 


OUR  LADIe's  NATIVITYE.  117 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 
In  1596  this  is  headed  '  The  Virgine  Marie's  Conceptiou.' 
St.  i.  line  4,  Turnbull  misprints  '  showers'  for  '  shoure  ;' 
and  line  6, 'oitr  good' for 'the  good.'     Cf.  on  11.  ,3  4  : 

Quot  latent  miracula 
Fiet  haic  iiubicula 

In  vim  magiiam  pluvia;. 
Hy.  Gaudii  primordium,  used  on  Nat.  B.V. 
The  themes  of  each  of  the  next  stanzas  are  contained  in  two 
lines  of  a  later  stanza  of  the  same  hymn  :  line  7,  '  Tota  plena 
gratia:'  line  13,  '  Tota  sine  macula.' 

St.  ui.  line  6,  '  hredd  :'  1596  reads  '  home.'  G. 


OUE  LADIE'S  NATIVITYE. 

Jo  YE  in  the  risinge  of  our  orient  starr, 

That  shall  bringe  forth  the  Sunne  that  lent  her  light ; 

Joy  in  the  peace  that  shaU  conclude  our  warr, 

And  soone  rebate  the  edge  of  Saton's  spight ; 

Load-starr  of  all  engolfd  in  worldly  waves> 

The  card  and  compasse  that  from  shipwracke  saves. 

The  patriark  and  prophettes  were  the  floures 
Which  Tynie  by  course  of  ages  did  distill, 
And  cidld  into  this  little  cloude  the  shoures 
Whose  gracious  droppes  the  world  with  joy  shall  fill ; 
Whose  nioysture  suppleth  every  soule  with  grace, 
And  bringeth  life  to  Adam's  dyinge  race. 


118  OUR  LADIe's  NATIVITYE. 

For  God,  on  Earth,  she  is  the  royall  throne, 
The  chosen  cloth  to  make  His  niortall  weede ; 
The  quarry  to  cutt  out  our  Corner-stone, 
Soyle  fuU  of  fruite,  yet  free  from  mortall  seede  ; 
For  heavenly  floure  she  is  the  Jesse  redd 
The  childe  of  man,  the  parent  of  a  God. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  i.  line  1,  '  Ave  maris  stella,'  hymn  at  VeBpers  of  F.  of  the 
Holy  Rosary,  &c. :  '  Stella  maris,'  of  hymn  '  Alma  Redemptoris :' 
'  Stella  matutina,'  Litany  of  B.V.  or  Litany  of  Loretto ;  the 
'  steUa  maris'  being  =  stella  matutina,  or  the  morning-star  in 
the  East,  with  a  people  who  had  the  sea  eastward  of  them. 

Line  2,  cf. 

Domum  quam  inhabitet 
Moxe  qua  nos  visitet, 
Ornat  sol  justitice, 
Quot  micat  luminlbus 
Snis  Deiis  usibus, 
Quod  vas  fingit  glorije. 

Hy.  Gaudii,  &c. 
Line  3,  cf. 

Punda  nos  in  pace, 
Mutans  Evse  nomen. 

Hy.  Ave  maris  stella. 
Line  4,  '  rebate' =hlunt. 
,,     5,  1596  reads  'inclosed'  for  '  engolfed:'  so  1630  also. 
„     6,  cf.  St.  Peter's  Complaint,  st.  i.  line  5,  and  relative 
note :  1596  and  1630  misprint  '  care'  for  '  card.' 

Line  9,  see  relative  note  on  the  Conception  of  our  Ladie, 
st.  i.  lines  3-4. 

St.  ii.  line  3,  1630  and  1634  misprint  after  1596  '  call'd,' 
which  TuRNBULL  repeated. 

Line  11,  cf.  St.  Peter's  Complaint,  st.  Ixxx.  line  2. 
St.  iii.  line  2,  our  ms.  reads  '  this ;'  but  as  '  His'  is  better, 
and  is  in  1596,  I  prefer  it :  1596  in  line  3  reads  '  his  little.' 
Line  4,  1634,  misreads  blunderingly, 

'  Soile  full  of,  yet  free  from,  aU  mortaU  seed  ;' 
and  again  Tuenbull  perpetuates.     Mortal=deadly. 


OUR  ladye's  spousalls.        119 

Line  5,  in  AdcU.  mss.  10.422  '  Jesse's  :'  in  1596  and  1630 
'  lessa.'  Cf.  Isaiah  xi.  It  may  be  noted,  that  while  Auth. 
Vers,  reads  here  '  Branch,'  the  Vulg.  has  '  flower,'  — '  etjlos  de 
radice  ascendet.' 

In  1596  the  poem  is  not  divided  into  stanzas,  and  so  through- 
out in  this  series.    The  heading  is  simply  '  Her  Natiuitie.'  G. 


OUR  LADYE'S  SPOUSALLS. 

Wife  did  she  live,  yet  virgin  did  she  die, 
XJntovy^chd  of  man,  yet  mother  of  a  sonne  ; 

To  save  herself  and  childe  from  fatall  lye, 

To  end  the  webb  whereof  the  thredd  was  spoone, 

In  mariage  knottes  to  Josephe  she  was  tyde. 

Unwonted  workes  with  wonted  veyles  to  hide. 

God  lent  His  paradice  to  Josephe's  care, 

Wherein  He  was  to  plante  the  tree  of  life  ; 

His  Sonne,  of  Joseph's  childe  the  title  bare, 

Just  cause  to  make  the  mother  Josephe's  wife. 

0  blessM  man  !  betrothd  to  such  a  spouse, 

More  blessd  to  Hve  with  such  a  childe  in  house  ! 

Noe  carnall  love  this  sacred  league  procurde, 

All  vayne  delites  Avere  farre  from  their  assent ; 

Though  both  in  wedlock  bands  them  selves  assurde. 
Yet  strait  by  vow  they  seald  their  chast  entent : 

Thus  had  she  virgins',  wives',  and  widowes'  crowne, 

And  by  chast  childbirth  doubled  her  renowne. 


12U        OUR  ladie's  salutation. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  i.  line  2,  1596  misreads  '  Vntaught'  for  '  Untowchd.' 
Line  6,  1596  misreads  '  wiles'  for  '  veyles,'  and  so  1680. 
St.  ii.  line  5,  1596  reads  badly  '  betrotb'd  too  much.' 
St.  iii.  line  1,  1596  reads  '  bis'  for  '  tbis.' 
Line  3,  1596  reads  '  Tbougb  both  tbemselues,'  and  so  1630. 
4,  1.596,  1630  and  1634  read  '  cbaste'  for  '  strait ;'  and 

so  TCRNBULL. 

Line  5,  1596  and  1630  read  '  tbe'  for  '  sbe.' 

In  1596  tbe  heading  is  simply  '  Her  Spousalls.'  G. 


OUR  LADIE'S  SALUTATION. 

Spell  Eva  backe  and  Ave  shall  yowe  finde, 

Tlie  first  beganne,  the  last  reversd  our  harmes  ; 

An  angell's  witching  wordes  did  Eva  blynde, 
An  angell's  Ave  disinchauntes  the  charmes  : 

Death  first  by  woeman's  weakenes  entred  in, 

In  woeman's  vertue  life  doth  nowe  beginn. 

0  vhgin  brest !  the  heavens  to  thee  inclyne, 
In  thee  their  joy  and  soveraigne  they  agnize  ; 

Too  meane  their  glory  is  to  match  with  thyne, 

Whose  chaste receite  God  more  then  heaven  did  prize. 

Hayle  fayrest  heaven,  that  heaven  and  earth  dost  blisse. 

Where  vertewes  starres,  God  sonne  of  justice  is  !      sv,n 


OUR  ladie's  salutation.  121 

"With  hauty  mynd  to  Godhead  man  aspird, 

And  was  by  pride  from  place  of  pleasure  chasd  ; 

Witli  lovinge  mind  our  manhead  God  desird, 
And  us  by  love  in  greater  pleasure  placd ; 

Man  labouring  to  ascend  procurd  our  fall, 

God  yelding  to  descend  cut  off  our  thrall. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  i.  line  1,  see  relative  note  on  Our  Ladie's  Natiuitie, 
St.  i.  line  3,  and  also  Coventry  Mysteries,  p.  112,  line  IG  (Sliaks. 
Soc),  '  Here  this  name  Eva  is  turned  Ave,'  and  Halliwell's  note, 
11.  412.  The  quotation  from  Coventry  Mysteries  is  given  incor- 
rectly in  Collier,  Hist.  Dram.  p.  ii.  176.  Cf .  also  Audaeni  Epigi-. 
ill.  46. 

St.  ii.  lines  1-2,  our  ms.  here  and  elsewhere  reads  '  the'  for 
'  thee,'  and  '  to'  for  '  too.'  Throughout  I  give  the  present  forms, 
as  in  1596  and  other  early  and  later  editions. 

Line  2,  1596  misreads  'In  thee  they  joy;'  and  so  1630  in 
error.     '  Agnize'=acknowledge. 

Line  5,  1596,  1630  and  1634  read  '  did'  for  '  dost.' 
,,     6,  our  MS.  reads  '  starres'  inadvertently. 

St.  iii.  line  4,  Tubnbull  misprints  'And  as  by  love'  for  '  us.' 

In  1596  the  heading  is  '  The  Virgin's  Salutation.'  This  poem 
bears  throughout,  as  does  The  Visitation,  recollections  of  the 
hymn  '  Gaudii,'  &c.  as  elsewhere. 


JOSEPHE'S  AMAZEMENT. 

When  Christ,  by  grouth,  disclosed  His  descent 
Into  the  pure  receite  of  Marye's  breste, 

Poore  Joseph,  straunger  yet  to  God's  intent, 

"With  doubtes  of  jelious  thoughtes  was  sore  opprest ; 

And,  Avrought  with  divers  fittes  of  feare  and  love, 

He  nether  can  her  free  nor  fanltye  prove. 

N"ow  Sence,  the  wakefull  spie  of  jelious  mynde, 
By  stronge  conjectures  deemeth  her  defilde ; 

But  Love,  in  dome  of  thinges  best  loved,  blynde, 

Thinkes  rather  Sence  deceiv'd  then  her  with  child  ; 

Yet  procfes  so  pregnant  were,  that  no  pretence 

Could  cloake  a  thinge  so  cleare  and  playne  to  sence. 


Then  Joseph,  daunted  with  a  deadly  wounde, 
Let  loose  the  reynes  to  undeserved  greife  ; 

His  hart  did  throbb,  his  eyes  in  teares  were  drounde. 
His  life  a  losse,  death  seem'd  his  best  releife ; 

The  pleasing  relis  of  his  former  love  reli-^h 

In  gallish  thoughtes  to  bitter  tast  doth  prove. 


josephe's  amazement.  123 

One  foote  lie  often  setteth  forth  of  doore, 

But  t'other's  loth  uncerten  wayes  to  treade ; 

He  takes  his  fardell  for  his  needefull  store, 

He  casts  his  inn,  where  first  he  meanes  to  bead  ; 

But  still  ere  he  can  frame  his  feete  to  goe, 

Love  Avynneth  tyme  till  all  conclude  in  noe. 

Sometyme,  greif  addinge  force,  he  doth  depart, 
He  will,  against  his  will,  keepe  on  his  pace ; 

But  straight  remorse  so  rackes  his  ruing  hart, 

That  hasting  thoughtes  yeld  to  a  pawsing  space  ; 

Then  mighty  reasons  presse  him  to  remayne, 

She  whome  he  flyes  doth  winne  him  home  againe. 

But  when  his  thought,  by  sight  of  his  aboade, 
Presentes  the  signe  of  mysesteemed  shame, 

Eepenting  every  step])  that  backe  he  trode, 

Teares  drowne  the  guides,  the  tongue  the  feete  doth 
blame ; 

Thus  warring  with  himself,  a  feilde  he  fightes. 

Where  every  wounde  upon  the  giver  lightes. 

And  was  (quoth  he)  my  love  so  lightly  prysed  1 
And  was  our  sacred  league  so  soone  forgott  1 

Could  vowes  be  voyde,  could  vertues  be  despisd  1 
Could  such  a  spouse  be  staynd  with  such  a  spott  1 

0  wretched  Joseph  !  that  hast  livd  so  longe, 

Of  faithfull  love  to  reape  so  grevous  wronge  ! 


124  '       josephb's  amazement. 

Could  such  a  worme  breede  in  so  sweete  a  Avood  1 
Coulde  ill  so  chast  demeanure  lincke  untruth  1 

Could  Vice  lye  hidd  where  Vertue's  image  stoode  1 
Where  hoary  sagenes  graced  tender  youthe  1 

Where  can  afFyance  rest,  to  rest  secure  ] 

In  Vertue's  fayrest  seat  faithe  is  not  sure. 

All  proofes  did  promise  hope  a  pledge  of  grace, 
AVliose  good  might  have  repaide  the  deepest  ill ; 

Sweete  signes  of  purest  thoughtes  in  saintly  face 
Assurd  the  eye  of  her  unstayned  will. 

Yett,  in  this  seeminge  lustre,  seeme  to  lye 

Such  crymes  for  which  the  lawe  condemns  to  die. 

But  Josephe's  word  shall  never  worke  her  woe  : 
I  -vvishe  her  leave  to  live,  not  dome  to  dye ; 

Though  fortune  myne,  yett  am  I  not  her  foe, 
She  to  her  self  lesse  lovinge  is  then  I : 

The  most  I  will,  the  lest  I  can,  is  this,  least 

Sithe  none  may  salve,  to  shunne  that  is  amisse. 

Exile  my  home,  the  wildes  shall  be  my  walke, 

Complainte  my  joye,  my  rausicke  mourninge  layes  ; 

With  pensive  greives  in  silence  will  I  talke, 

Sad  thoughtes  shalbe  my  guides  in  sorowe's  wayes  : 

This  course  best  suites  the  care  of  curelesse  mynde, 

That  seekes  to  loose  what  raoste  it  joy'd  to  finde. 


josephe's  amazement.  125 

Like  stocked  tree  whose  braunches  all  do  fade, 
Whose  leaves  do  fall  and  perisht  fruite  decaie  ; 

Like  herb  that  growes  in  colde  and  barrayne  shade, 
Where  darkenes  drives  all  qnickninge  heate  away ; 

So  dye  must  I,  cutt  from  my  roote  of  joye, 

And  throwen  in  darkest  shades  of  deepe  annoye. 

But  who  can  fly  from  that  his  harte  doth  feele  1 

What  chaunge  of  place  can  change  implanted  payne? 

Kemovinge  moves  no  hardnes  from  the  Steele ; 

Sicke  hartes,  that  shift  no  fittes,  shift  roomes  in  vayne. 

Where  thought  can  see,  what  helpes  the  closed  eye  ? 

Where  hart  pursues,  what  gaynes  the  foote  to'Sye? 

Yett  still  I  tredd  a  maze  of  dovibtfull  end ; 

I  goe,  I  come,  she  drawes,  she  drives  away ; 

She  woundes,  she  heales,  she  doth  both  marr  and  mend. 

She  makes  me  seeke  and  shunn,  depart  and  stay ; 
She  is  a  frende  to  love,  a  foe  to  loathe, 
And  in  suspence  I  hange  betwene  them  both. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  i.  line  2,  '  receite'=place  of  receipt,  as  in  sitting  at  the 
receipt  of  custom,  St.  Matthew  ix.  9,  &c.  Cf.  The  Visitation, 
St.  iii.  line  3,  and  Sinne's  Heavy  Load,  st.  iv.  line  2.  See  also 
with  relation  to  the  meaning  of  '  receipt'  and  '  brest,'  Joseph's 
Amazement,  st.  i.  line  2. 

St.  ii.  line  3,  '  dome' =  doom  or  judgment. 

St.  iii.  line  6,  the  word  '  gallish'  shows  that  our  text  from 
our  MS.,  and  as  in  1596  as  well  as  in  Addl.  iiss.  10.422,  is  right, 
and  the  emendation  in  Turnbull,  an  impertinence  and  wrong. 


126  THE  VISITATION. 

which  reads  '  in  taste  doth  bitter  prove.'  Our  Poet  was  thinking 
of  '  it  was  in  my  mouth  as  sweet  as  honey,  and  as  soon  as  I 
had  eaten  it,  my  belly  was  bitter,'  —  amaricatus  est  venter 
meus.  Apoc.  x.  10. 

St.  iv.  line  3,  fardell  =:  burden. 

Line  4,  casts  ^  determines  in  his  mind.  Richardson  s.  v. 
derives  this  sense  of  it  from  wi-estling ;  but  it  is  simpler  to  con- 
sider it  as  either  a  soothsaying  or  gaming  sense,  taken  from 
the  casting  of  lots  or  dice,  or  from  the  '  casting'  of  nativities. 
Bead  is  =  bed,  i.e.  sleep. 

St.  V.  line  3,  1596  reads  '  raging'  for  '  ruing.' 

St.  vi.  line  4,  1596  reads  stupidly  '  done  the  guide.' 

St.  ix.  line  5.  Our  ms.  is  corrected  by  S.  It  originally  stood 
as  a  word  of  five  letters,  probably  'luste,'  and  is  changed  to 
'  lustre'  (apparently)  as  in  1596. 

St.  X.  line  3,  perhaps  we  have  here  a  reference,  if  not  a  quo- 
tation, from  the  song  '  Fortune  my  foe,  why  dost  thou  frown  on 
me  ?'  and  it  is  the  more  applicable  that  this  song  '  is  a  sweet 
sonnet,  wherein  the  lover  exclaims  against  Fortune  for  the  loss 
of  his  lady's  favour,  almost  past  hope  to  get  it  again.' 

Line  5,  Tuenbull  misiwints  '  less  :'  lest  =: least. 

St.  xii.  line  1,  to  '  stock"  a  tree  is  to  cut  it  down,  so  as  to 
leave  a  '  stock'  on  which  to  gi-aff  some  other,  and  the  reference 
here  is  to  that  part  of  the  stock  and  branches  so  cut  off. 

Line  5,  Tuenbull  misreads  '  So  must  I  die.'  G. 


THE  VISITATION. 


Proclaym^d  queene  and  mother  of  a  God, 

The  light  of  Earth,  the  soveraigne  of  saintes. 

With  pilgrimm  foote  upp  tyring  hills  she  trodd, 

And  heavenly  stile  vpith  handmayds'  toyle  acquaints : 

Her  youth  to  age,  her  helth  to  sicke  she  lends. 

Her  hart  to  God,  to  neighhour  hand  she  bendes. 


THE  VISITATION.  127 

A  prince  she  is,  and  mightier  prince  doth  beare, 

Yet  pompe  of  princely  trayne  she  would  not  have  ; 

But  doubtles  heavenly  quires  attendant  were, 

Her  child  from  harme,  her  self  from  fall  to  save  : 

Worde  to  the  voyce,  songe  to  the  tune  she  bringes, 

The  voyce  her  word,  the  tune  her  ditye  singes. 

Eternall  lightes  inclosed  in  her  breste 

Shott  out  such  percing  beames  of  burning  love, 

That  when  her  voyce  her  cosen's  eares  possest 
The  force  thereof  did  force  her  babe  to  move  : 

With  secreet  signes  the  children  greete  ech  other, 

But  open  praise  ech  leaveth  to  his  mother. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  i.  line  3,  St.  Luke  i.  39. 

Line  5,  1630  and  1634  misread  '  her  selfe'  for  '  her  helth  :' 
and  TuRNBULL  repeats  the  blunder. 

Line  6,  St.  Luke  i.  56. 

St.  ii.  line  1,  'prince.^  So  in  the  Assumption  of  our  Ladie, 
st.  iii.  line  2 :  a  usage  not  infrequent. 

Lines  5-6,  St.  Luke  i.  42.  She  'themes'  or  gives  the 
words  in  which  the  voice  of  Elizabeth  finds  expression,  and 
thus  gives  articulate  song  to  the  joyful  time.  '  Word'  in  line 
5  is  probably  used  in  a  double  sense  —  Southwell  being  al- 
most as  fond  of  such  double  uses  as  Shakespeare — and  her 
'  ditty'  is  both  her  song- words  and  the  song  about  her,  or  made 
in  her  praise. 

St.  iii.  line  1,  see  relative  note  on  Our  Ladle's  Salutation, 
st.  i.  line  2. 

Addl.  Mss.  10.422  differs  only  in  orthographic  changes.  G. 


THE  NATIVITY  OF  CHEISTE. 

Eehould  the  father  is  His  daughter's  sonne, 

The  bird  that  built  the  nest  is  hatchd  therein, 

The  old  of  yeres  an  hower  hath  not  outrunne, 
Eternall  life  to  live  doth  nowe  beginn, 

The  Worde  is  dunim,  the  Mirth  of  heaven  doth  weepe, 

Mighte  feeble  is,  and  Force  doth  fayntely  creepe. 

0  dyinge  soules  !  behould  your  living  springe  ! 

0  dazeled  eyes  !  behould  your  sunne  of  grace  ! 
Dull  eares,  attend  what  word  this  Word  doth  bringe  ! 

Upp,  heavy  hartes,  with  joye  your  joy  embrace  ! 
From  death,  from  darke,  from  deaphnesse,  from  des- 

payres, 
This  Life,  this  Light,  this  Word,  this  Joy  repaires. 


Gift  better  then  Him  self  God  dotli  not  knowe. 
Gift  better  then  his  God  no  man  can  see ; 

This  gift  doth  here  the  giver  given  bestowe. 
Gift  to  this  gift  lett  ech  receiver  bee  : 

God  is  my  gift,  Him  self  He  freely  gave  me, 

God's  gift  am  I,  and  none  but  God  shall  have  me. 


THE  NATIVITY  OF  GHRISTE.  129 

Man  altred  was  by  synn  from  man  to  best ;       ■     heast 
Beste's  foode  is  haye,  haye  is  all  mortall  fleslie ; 

Now  God  is  fleshe,  and  lyes  in  mannger  prest, 
As  haye  the  brutest  synner  to  refreshe  : 

0  happy  feilde  wherein  this  foder  grewe, 

Wliose  taste  doth  us  from  beastes  to  men  renewe  ! 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  his  Epistle  '  To  the  Gentlemen  Readers'  the  printer 
(John  BusWe),  introducing  Maeonic-e  (1595),  says,  '  One  thing 
amongst  the  rest  I  am  to  admonish  thee  of,  that  hauing  in  this 
treatise  read  Marie's  Visitation,  the  next  that  should  follow  is 
Christ's  Natuity ;  hut  being  afore  printed  in  the  end  of  Peter's 
Complaint,  we  have  heere  of  purpose  omitted ;  that  thou  should- 
est  not  he  abridged  of  that  and  the  other  like  comforts,  which 
that  other  treatise  profereth  thee.'  Tuenbtill  so  places  the 
present  poem  ;  but  in  so  doing  reveals  he  had  never  seen,  or  at 
least  never  used,  the  1595  edition. 

In  st.  ii.  line  2,  our  ms.  inadvertently  reads  '  summe'  for 
'  sunne'  of  1596,  &c. 

St.  iii.  lines  17-18,  that  is  the  gift  bestowed  on  me— that 
which  is  mine  now,  but  is  essentially  a  gift  from  another  ;  and 
so  next  line — God's  gift  am  I — is,  I  am  the  gift  which  I  have 
given  to  God.  So  elsewhere,  '  His  angels'  gifts'  =  His  gifts  to 
angels,  as  noted  in  the  place. 

St.  iv.  line  2,  '  Omnis  caro  fenum,'  Is.  xl.  6  and  Ps.  cii.  15 
(ciii.  Auth.  Vers.),  and  all  the  parallel  passages,  give  'hay,' ex- 
cept Ps.  Ixxxix.  (xc.)  5,  which  has  '  herba,'  as  there  required. 

Line  3,  Turnbull  similarly  misprints  '  lives'  for  '  lyes.'  G. 


THE  cmCUMSISION. 

The  head  is  launc'd  to  worke  the  bodie's  cure, 

With  angring  salve  it  smartes  to  healc  our  wounde  ; 

To  faltlesse  Sonne,  from  all  offences  pure, 
The  falty  vassall's  scourges  do  redounde  ; 

The  judge  is  cast,  the  guilty  to  acquite. 

The  Sonne  defac'd,  to  lende  the  starre  his  lighte. 

The  Vine  of  life  distilleth  droppes  of  grace, 
Our  rock  gives  yssue  to  a  heavenly  springe ; 

Teares  from  His  eyes,  blood  runnes  from  wounded  place, 
Wliich  showers,  to  heaven,  of  joy  a  harvest  bringe  : 

This  sacred  deaw  let  angells  gather  upp, 

Such  deynty  droppes  best  fitt  their  nectared  cupp. 


With  weeping  eyes  His  mother  reu'd  His  smart, 

If  bloode  from  Him,  teares  rann  from  her  as  fast ; 

The  knife  that  cutt  His  fleshe  did  perce  her  hart, 
The  payne  that  Jesus  felt  did  Marye  tast ; 

His  .life  and  her's  hunge  by  one  fatall  twiste. 

No  blowe  that  hitt  the  Sonne  the  mother  miste. 


THE  EPIPHANYE.  131 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  i.  lines  1-4,  said,  perhaps,  with  reference  to  the  earthly- 
royal  custom  by  which  a  vassal  whipping-boy  was  scourged  for 
the  faults  of  the  heir. 

St.  ii.  line  1, 1590  ed.  coiTects  our  ms.  and  1634 — the  latter 
blindly  followed  by  Tuknbull — in  reading,  as  in  1630  also, 
'  Vine'  for  '  vein.' 

Line  3, 1634,  and  so  Turnbull,  reads  '  streames'  for  '  runnes.' 
,,     4,  With  =  whose  or  which. 

St.  iii.  lines  2-4,  in  1596  are  very  inaccurate,  reading  '  came' 
for  '  rann,'  '  his'  for  '  her  heart,'  and  '  set'  for  '  felt.' 

Line  5,  fatal.  Latinate,  in  so  far  as  it  contains  the  sense  of 
appointed  (or  spun)  by  destiny.     So  in  Virgil  and  Cicero. 

In  1596  the  heading  is  '  His  Circumcision.'  G. 


THE  EPIPHANYE. 


To  blase  the  rising  of  this  glorious  sunne, 
A  glittringe  starre  appeareth  in  the  Easte, 

Whose  sight  to  pilgrimm-toyles  three  sages  wunne 
To  seeke  the  light  they  long  had  in  requeste  ; 

And  by  this  starre  to  nobler  starr  they  pase, 

Whose  armes  did  their  desired  sunne  embrace. 

Stall  was  the  skye  wherein  these  pianettes  shynde, 
And  want  the  cloude  that  did  eclipse  their  rayes ; 

Yet  tlirough  this  cloude  their  light  did  passage  finde, 
And  percd  these  sages'  harts  by  secrett  waies, 

Which  made  them  knowe  the  Ruler  of  the  skyes, 

By  infant  tongue  and  lookes  of  babish  eyes. 


132 


THE  EPIPHANYE. 


Heaven  at  her  light,  Ejxrth  bhisheth  at  her  pride, 
And  of  their  pompe  these  peeres  ashamed  he  ; 

Their  crownes,  their  robes,  their  trayne  they  sett  aside, 
When  God's  poore  cotage,  clowtes,  and  crewe,  they 

All  glorious  thinges  their  glory  nowe  dispise,  [see ; 

Sith  God  contempt,  doth  more  then  glory  prize. 

Three  giftes  they  bringe,  three  giftes  they  beare  awaye  ; 

For  incense,  myrrho  and  gould,  faith,  hope  and  love ; 
And  with  their  giftes  the  givers'  hartes  do  staye, 

Their  mynde  from  Christ  no  parting  can  remove ; 
Ilis  humble  state,  his  stall,  his  poore  retynewe, 
They  phansie  more  then  all  theire  ritch  revenewe. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  Bt.  i.  line  1,  blase  =  to  blaze,  or  to  blaze  abroad  or  pub- 
lish, is  probably  drawn  from  the  use  of  beacou-fires  and  the  like 
as  messengers  of  news:  line  3,  1596  reads  'pilgi-ims'  toile:' 
line  7,  the  transition  to  this  thought  is  so  natural,  that  South- 
well may  or  may  not  have  had  in  his  mind  that  legend  several 
times  repeated  in  the  apocryphal  Gospels,  that  a  bright  light 
filled  the  cave  when  Jesus  was  born,  especially  in  the  Gospel 
of  James,  where  it  is  said  '  a  bright  cloud  overshadowed  the 
cave  .  .  .and  suddenly  the  cloud  withdi-ew,  and  there  appeared 
a  great  light  in  the  cave,  so  that  their  eyes  could  not  bear  it.' 
As  a  Protestant,  it  is  noticeable  to  me  that  Southwell  is  ex- 
ceptionally free  from  references  to  legends.  In  st.  ii.  line  6, 
TuKNBULL  misprints  'infant's:'  in  st.  iv.  line  1,  'brought'  for 
'  b)-inge ;'  and  line  2,  actually '  mirth'  for  '  myrrhe.'  Lines  5-6, '  re- 
venewe.' There  seem  to  have  been  two  pronunciations  of  '  re- 
venue' in  Southwell's  time,  and  probably  two  of  '  retinue.'  In 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream  '  revenue'  and  '  revenue'  occur  in  the 
same  scene  (i.  1) ;  and  in  the  verse  of  his  plays  'revenue'  occurs 
ten  times,  and  '  ri'venue"  six ;  nor  is  there  any  change  in  his 


THE  PRESENTATION.  133 

earlier  or  later  usage,  nor  anything  to  indicate  that  one  was 
more  courtly  or  more  impressive  or  poetic  than  the  other.  In 
the  one  case  in  which  he  uses  'retinue'  in  verse  (Lear,  i.  -4)  the 
emphasis  on  '  insolent'  requires  '  retinue'  or  '  ret'nue.'  The 
penultimate  accentuation  is  from  the  older  and  fuller  French 
forms  'revenue'  and  'retenue,'  and  both  nations  in  adopting  the 
shorter  forms  have  thrown  back  the  accent.  G. 


THE  PRESENTATION. 

To  Le  redeeni'd  the  world's  Eedeenier  brought, 
Two  selye  turtle-doves,  for  ransome  payes ; 

Oh  !  ware  with  empyres  worthy  to  be  bought, 

This  easye  rate  doth  sounde,  not  drowne  Thy  praise  ! 

For  sith  no  price  can  to  Thy  worth  amounte, 

A  dove,  yea  love,  dew  price  Thou  dost  accountc. 

Old  Simeon  cheap  penyworth  and  sweete 

Obteyn'd,  when  Thee  in  armes  he  did  embrace ; 

His  weeping  eyes  Thy  smyling  lookes  did  meete. 
Thy  love  his  hart,  Thy  kisses  blissd  his  face  : 

0  eyes  !  0  hart !  meane  sightes  and  loves  avoyde, 

'Base  not  your  selves,  your  best  you  have  enjoy'd  ! 

0  virgin  pure !  tho\i  dost  these  doves  presente 
As  due  to  lawe,  not  as  an  equall  price ; 

To  buy  such  ware  thou  would'st  thy  life  have  spente  ; 
The  worlde  to  reach  His  worth  coulde  not  suffice ; 

If  God  were  to  be  bought,  not  worldly  pelfe, 

But  thou,  wert  fittest  price  next  God  Him  self. 


134  THE  FLIGHT  INTO  EGIPT. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  St.  i.  line  3,  1596  reads  '  wares  :'  in  st.  iii.  line  3,  '  thy 
self  for  '  thy  life.'  In  st.  ii.  line  1, '  cheap  pennyworth'  was  an 
ordinary  and  usual  phrase  for  a  cheap  or  good  cheap  bargain. 
St.  i.  lines  1-2  =  the  world's  Redeemer  brought  to  be  redeemed, 
payes  two  selye  turtle-doves  for  ransome.  G. 


THE  FLIGHT  INTO  EGIPT. 

Alas  !  our  Day  is  forc'd  to  flye  by  iiighte  ! 

Light  "without  light,  and  sunne  by  silent  shade. 
O  Nature,  blushe  !  that  suffrest  such  a  wighte, 

That  in  thy  sunne  this  dark  eclipse  hath  made ; 
Day  to  his  eyes,  light  to  his  steppes  denye. 
That  hates  the  light  which  graceth  every  eye. 

Sunne  being  fledd  the  starres  do  leese  their  light, 
And  shyninge  beanies  in  bloody  streames  they 

A  cruell  storme  of  Herod's  mortall  spite         [drenche ; 
Their  lives  and  lightes  with  bloody  shoures  doth 

The  tiran  to  be  sure  of  murdringe  one,  [quench  : 

For  feare  of  sparinge  Him  doth  pardon  none. 

0  blessed  babes  !  first  flowers  of  Christian  Springe, 
Who  though  untymely  cropt  fayre  garlandes  frame, 

With  open  throates  and  silent  mouthes  you  singe 
His  praise,  Whome  age  permitts  you  not  to  name  ; 

Your  tunes  are  teares,  your  instrumentes  are  swordes, 

Your  ditye  death,  and  bloode  in  Hew  of  wordes  ! 


christe's  retorne  out  of  egipt.  135 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  St.  i.  line  3,  '  wight'  =  Herod.  Line  4,  1596  reads 
'  hast:'  st.  ii.  line  1,  '  loose'  for  '  leese;'  probably  therefore  — 
'  lease,'  i.  e.  '  to  lose,'  for  in  the  old  philosophy  all  the  stars  re- 
ceived their  light  from  the  sun.  The  metaphor  scarcely  applies 
if  ^ less:  line  4,  I  have  adopted  'do'  for  'doth:'  st.  iii.  line  3, 
both  followed  the  conceits  of  their  ago,  but  cf.  Antony  in  Julius 
Cajsar,  iii.  1  and  iii.  2.  G. 


CHEISTE'S  RETORNE  OUT  OF  EGIPT. 

When  Death  and  Hell  their  right  in  Herode  clayme, 
Clirist  from  exile  returnes  to  natyve  soyle, 

There  with  His  life  more  deepely  Death  to  may  me, 
Then  Death  did  life  by  all  the  infantes  spoyle. 

He  shewd  the  parentes  that  their  babes  did  mone, 

That  all  their  lives  were  lesse  then  His  alone. 

But  hearing  Herod's  sonne  to  have  the  crowne  ; 

An  impious  offspring  of  a  bloodye  syre ; 
To  Nazareth  (of  heaven  beloved)  towne, 

Flower  to  a  floure,  He  fittly  doth  retyre ; 
For  floure  He  is  and  in  a  floure  He  bredd, 
And  from  a  thorne  nowe  to  a  floure  He  fledd. 

And  well  deservd  this  floure  His  fruite  to  vew, 
Where  He  invested  was  in  mortal!  weede  ; 

Wliere  first  unto  a  tender  budd  He  grewe, 

In  virgin  branch  unstaynd  with  mortall  seede  : 


136  christe's  childhoode. 

Yonge  floure,  with  floures  in  floure  well  may  He  be, 
Ripe  fruitc,  He  must  with  thornes  hange  on  a  tree. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  St.  i.  line  4,  '  spoyle'  =  rob :  line  5,  1596  badly  mis- 
prints '  the'  for  '  tlieii- :'  st.  ii.  line  2,  reads  '  The'  for  '  An :' 
line  5,  'For  He  is  a  flower:'  very  badly,  and  followed  by  Tuen- 
BULL,  'throne'  for  '  thorne:'  st.  iii.  line  3,  '  into'  for  'unto.'  In 
our  MS.  in  the  margin  explanatory  of  the  play  on  the  word 
'  flower'  is  this  note,  '  Nazareth  signifieth  a  flower.'  So  Isaiah 
xii.  in  Vulg.  as  before  noted.  Nazareth  has  been  supposed  to 
be  derived  from  some  dialectic  variation  of  Nitza  or  Netzer, 
Hebrew  for '  flower,'  the  town  being  situated  in  the  most  fertile 
and  beautiful  part  of  Judea.  The  Virgin  is  called  a  '  flower'  ac- 
cording to  the  name  '  Kosa  mystica'  in  the  Litany  of  B.V.  G. 


CHRISTE'S  CHILDHOODE. 

Till  twelve  yeres'  age,  how  Christ  His  childhood  spent 
All  eartlily  pennes  unworthy  were  to  write  ; 

Such  actes  to  mortall  eyes  He  did  presente, 

Whose  Avorth  not  men  but  angells  must  recite  : 

No  nature's  blottes,  no  childish  faultes  defilde. 

Where  Grace  was  guide,  and  God  did  play  the  cliilde. 

In  springing  lockes  lay  couched  hoary  witt, 

In  semblance  younge,  a  grave  and  auncient  port ; 

In  lowly  lookes  high  maiestie  did  sitt. 

In  tender  tunge,  sound  sence  of  sagest  sort : 

Nature  imparted  all  that  she  could  teache, 

And  God  supply d  where  Nature  coulde  not  reach. 


Christ's  bloody  sweate.  137 

His  mirth,  of  modest  meane  a  mirrhour  was, 
His  sadnes,  tempred  with  a  mylde  aspecte  ; 

His  eye,  to  trye  ech  action  was  a  glasse, 

"Whose  lookes  did  good  approue  and  bad  correct ; 

His  nature's  giftes.  His  grace.  His  word,  and  deede. 

Well  shew'd  that  all  did  from  a  God  proceede. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

TuRNBULL  in  St.  ii.  line  1  wi-etchecUy  misprints  '  crouched' 
for  '  couched:'  line  2,  I  adopt  '  semhlance'  from  1596  for  '  scm- 
blant.'  G. 


CHRIST'S  BLOODY  SWEATE. 

Fatt  soyle,  full  springe,  sweete  olive,  grape  of  blesse, 
That  yeldes,  that  streames,  that  poures,  that  dost 
distill, 
ITntild,  undrawne,  unstampde,  untouchd  of  presse, 
Deere  fruit,  clere  brookes,  fayre  oyle,  sweete  wine  at 
will ! 
Thus  Christ  unforcd  preventes,  in  shedding  bloode, 
The  whippes,  the  thornes,  the  nayles,  the  speare,  and 
roode. 

He  pelican's,  he  phoenix'  fate  doth  prove,  [die  : 

Wliome  flames  consume,  whome  streames  enforce  to 

How  burneth  blood,  how  bleedeth  burninge  love, 

Can  one  in  flame  and  streame  both  bathe  and  frye  1 

How  coidde  He  joyne  a  phoenix'  fyerye  paynes 

In  faynting  pelican's  still  bleeding  vaynes  ? 

T 


138  christe's  sleeping  frendes. 

Elias  once,  to  prove  God's  soveraigne  poure, 
By  praire  procurd  a  fier  of  wondrous  force, 

That  blood  and  wood  and  water  did  devoure, 

Yea  stones  and  dust  beyonde  all  I^ature's  course  : 

Such  fire  is  love,  that,  fedd  with  gory  bloode, 

Doth  burno  no  lesse  then  in  the  dryest  woode. 

0  sacred  fire  !  come  shewe  thy  force  on  me, 

That  sacrifice  to  Christe  I  maye  retorne  : 
If  withered  wood  for  fuell  fittest  bee, 

If  stones  and  dust,  yf  fleshe  and  bloode  will  burne, 

1  withered  am,  and  stonye  to  all  good, 

A  sacke  of  dust,  a  masse  of  fleshe  and  bloode. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  i.  line  5,  'prevents' ^forestalls. 

St.  ii.  line  4.  On  '  frye,'  see  our  Crashaw,  vol.  i.  p.  118,  and 
relative  note.  G. 


CHEISTE'S  SLEEPING  FRENDES. 

When  Christ,  with  care  and  pangues  of  death  opprest, 
From  frighted  fleshe  a  bloody  sweate  did  rayne, 

And,  full  of  feare,  without  repose  or  reste, 
In  agonye  did  praye  and  watche  in  payne ; 

Three  sundry  tymes  He  His  disciples  findes 

With  heavy  eyes,  but  farre  more  heavy  myndes. 


christe's  sleeping  frendes.  139 

With  milde  rebuke  He  warned  them  to  wake, 
Yet  sleepe  did  still  their  drowsy  sences  hoiild, 

As  when  the  sunne  the  brightest  shewe  doth  make, 
In  darkest  shroudes  the  night-birdes  them  infold  : 

His  foes  did  watehe  to  Avorke  their  cruell  spight, 

His  drowsye  frendes  slept  in  His  hardest  plighte. 

As  Jonas  sayled  once  from  Joppe's  shoare 

A  boystrous  tempest  in  the  ayre  did  broyle, 

The  waves  did  rage,  the  thundring  heavens  did  rore, 
The  stormes,  the  rockes,  the  lightninges  threatned 
spoyle ; 

The  shipp  was  billowes'  game  and  chaunce's  prayc, 

Yet  careles  Jonas  mute  and  sleepinge  laye. 

So  now,  though  Judas,  hke  a  blustringe  gust. 
Do  stirre  the  furious  sea  of  Jeweshe  ire. 

Though  storming  troopes,  in  quarrells  most  unjust, 
Against  the  barke  of  all  our  blisse  conspire, 

Yett  these  disciples  sleepinge  lie  secure, 

As  though  their  wonted  calme  did  still  endure. 

So  Jonas  once,  his  weary  lymmes  to  reste. 

Did  shroude  him  self  in  pleasant  ivy  shade, 

But  loe !  while  him  a  heavye  sleepe  opprest. 

His  shadowy  boure  to  withered  stalke  did  fade ; 

A  canckered  worme  had  gnawen  the  roote  away. 

And  brought  the  glorious  brannches  to  decaye. 


140  christe's  sleeping  frendes. 

O  gratious  plante !  0  tree  of  heavenly  sj^ringe  ! 

The  paragon  for  leafe,  for  fruite  and  floure, 
How  sweete  a  shadow  did  Thy  braunches  bringe 

To  shroude  these  soules  that  chose  Thee  for  their 
boure ! 
But  now  while  they  with  Jonas  fall  asleepe, 
To  spoyle  their  plant  an  envious  worme  doth  creepe. 

Awake,  ye  slumbring  Avightes !  lift  upp  your  eyes, 
Marke  Judas,  how  to  teare  your  roote  he  strives  ; 

Alas !  the  glory  of  your  arbour  dyes, 

Arise  and  gard  the  comfort  of  your  lives ; 

No  Jonas'  ivye,  no  Zacheus'  tree, 

Were  to  the  world  so  greate  a  losse  as  Hee. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  ii.  line  4,  Tuknbull  misprints  '  darkness'  for  '  darkest.' 

Line  6,  1596  reads  '  night'  for  '  plight,'  and  so  1630. 

St.  iii.  Hue  5.  Our  ms.  misreads  '  gaiue'  for  '  game'  of  1596 : 
latter  adopted. 

St.  iv.  line  4,  one  of  Turnbull's  most  vexatious  misprints 
is  '  backe'  for  '  barke.' 

St.  V.  line  1,  1596  reads  '  heauy'  for  '  weary.' 

Line  2,  1596  reads  '  in  iuy  pleasant.'  Jerome  translated 
Jonah's  kikayon  as  hedera  (though  he  did  not  put  it  forth  as  an 
exact  rendering),  and  he  thereby  raised  a  storm  in  one  diocese  at 
least,  where' the  older  ciiciirbita  was  upheld  as  orthodox  against 
the  new  heretical  upstart.  However,  '  hedera'  is  retained  in  the 
present  Vulgate.  It  is  perhaps  needless  to  add  that  the  now 
commonly  received  opinion  is,  that  it  is  the  castor-oil  plant,  or 
ti"ee  as  it  may  be  sometimes  called. 

Line  5,  Tuknbull  reads  '  A  canker-worm  :'  1596,  '  did'  for 
'  had.'  G. 


THE  VIRGIN  MARY  TO  CHRIST  ON  THE 

CR0SSE.1 

What  mist  hath  dimd  that  glorious  face?  what  seas  of 

griefe  my  sun  doth  tossel 
The  golden  raies  of  heauenly  grace  Hes  now  ecclips^d 

on  the  crosse. 

lesus!  my  loue,  my  Sonne,  my  God,  behold  Thy  mother 

washt  in  teares : 
Thy  bloudie  woundes  he  made  a  rod  to  chasten  these 

my  latter  yearcs. 

You  cruell  lewes,  come  worke  your  ire,  vpon  this  worth- 

lesse  flesh  of  mine  : 
And  kindle  not  eternall  fire,  by  wounding  Him  which 

is  diuine. 

Thou  messenger  that  didst  impart  His  first  discent  into 

my  wombe, 
Come  helpe  me  now  to  cleaue  my  heart,  that  there  I 

may  my  Sonne  intombe. 

.  Curiously  enousli  this  poem  is  cot  in  our  MS.  nor  in  AdJl. 
Mss.  10.422  or  Haeleian  ms.  6921.    Our  text  is  from  1596.  Cx. 


142  THE  DEATH  OF  OUR  LADIE. 

You  angels  all,  that  present  were,  to  shew  His  birth 

with  harmonie; 
Whj  are  you  not  now  readie  here,  to  make  a  mourning 

symphony  1 

The  cause  I  know,  you  waile  alone  and  shed  your  teares 

in  secresie, 
Least  I  should  moued  be  to  mone,  by  force  of  heauie 

companie. 

But  waile  my  soule,  thy  comfort  dies,  my  wofull  wombe, 

lament  thy  fruit; 
My  heart,  giue  teares  unto  my  eies,  let  Sorrow  string 

my  heauy  lute. 


THE  DEATH  OF  OUE  LADIE.i 

Weepe,  living  thinges,  of  life  the  mother  dyes ; 

The  world  doth  loose  the  summ  of  all  her  blisse. 
The  queue  of  Earth,  the  empresse  of  the  skyes ; 

By  Marye's  death  mankind  an  orphan  is  : 
Lett  Nature  weepe,  yea,  lett  all  graces  mone. 
Their  glory,  grace,  and  giftes  dye  all  in  one. 

'  TuENBULL  printed  this  poem  from  Atlcll.  mss.  10.422,  biit 
showed  his  usual  incapacity  even  to  transcribe,  by  reading  st. 
iii.  line  5, 

'  Such  eyed  the  Hght  thy  beams  mitimely  shine  ;' 

the  nonsense  of  which  he  discerned  not.  The  ms.  10.422  differs 
only  orthogi-aphically  (slightly).  I  place  this  poem  here,  as 
belonging  to  the  series  on  Mary.  G. 


THE  ASSUMPTION  OF  OUR  LADY.         143 

It  was  no  death  to  he^,  but  to  her  woe, 

By  which  her  joyes  beganne,  her  greives  did  end  ; 
Death  was  to  her  a  frende,  to  us  a  foe, 

Life  of  whose  lives  did  on  her  life  depende  : 
l^ot  pray  of  death,  but  praise  to  death  she  was, 
Whose  uglye  shape  seemd  glorious  in  her  face. 

Her  face  a  heaven,  two  pianettes  were  her  eyes, 
Whose  gracious  hght  did  make  our  clearest  day ; 

But  one  such  heaven  there  was  and  loe !  it  dyes, 
Deathe's  darke  eclipse  hath  dymmed  every  ray  : 

Sunne,  hide  thy  light,  thy  beames  untymely  shine ! 

Trew  light  sith  wee  have  lost,  we  crave  not  thine. 


THE  ASSUMPTION  OF  OUE  LADY.i 

If  sinne  be  captive,  grace  must  finde  release ; 

From  curse  of  synne  the  innocente  is  free ; 
Tombe,  prison  is  for  sinners  that  decease, 

No  tombe,  but  throne  to  guiltles  doth  agree  : 
Though  thralles  of  sinne  lye  lingring  in  their  grave. 
Yet  faultles  cors,  with  soide,  rewarde  must  have. 

'  TuKNBULL  printed  this  from  Addl.  iiss.  10.422.  Our  ms. 
differs  only  in  orthogi-aphy,  and  st.  i.  line  5  reads  '  theii-'  for 
'  the.'  As  with  the  preceding,  I  give  this  poem  here  as  lis  fit- 
ting place.  G. 


144  SAINT  THOMAS  OF  AQUINES  HYMNE. 

The  daseled  eye  doth  dynimcd  light  require, 

And  dying  sightes  repose  in  shrowdinge  shades ; 

But  eagles'  eyes  to  brightest  light  aspire, 
And  living  lookes  delite  in  loftye  glades  : 

Faynte  winged  foule  hy  ground  doth  fayntly  flye, 

Our  princely  eagle  mountes  unto  the  skye. 

Gemm  to  her  worth,  spouse  to  her  love  ascendes, 

Prince  to  her  throne,  queene  to  her  heavenly  Kinge, 

Whose  court  with  solemne  pompe  on  her  attends. 

And  quires  of  saintes  with  greeting  notes  do  singe ; 

Earth  rendreth  upp  her  undeserved  praye, 

Heaven  claymes  the  right,  and  beares  the  prize  awaye. 


SAINT  THOMAS  OF  AQUINES  HYMNE  EEAD 
ON  COEPUS  CHPJSTY  DAYE. 

Laiida  Sion  Salvatorem. 

Praise,  O  Syon !  praise  thy  Saviour, 
Praise  thy  captayne  and  thy  pastour, 

With  hymnes  and  solemne  harmony. 
What  pour  affordes,  performe  in  dede ;     j30?;w/' 
His  worthes  all  prayses  farre  exceede, 

No  praise  can  reach  His  dignity e. 


SAINT  THOMAS  OF  AQUINES  IIYMNE.  Hi) 

A  speciall  theme  of  praise  is  redd, 
A  livingc  and  life-givinge  bredd, 

Is  on  this  day  exhibited  ; 
Which  in  the  Supper  of  our  Lorde, 
To  twelve  disciples  at  His  borde, 

None  doubtes  but  was  delivered. 

Lett  our  praise  be  loude  and  free, 
Full  of  joye  and  decent  glee, 

With  myndes'  and  voyces'  melodye  ; 
For  now  solemnize  wee  that  daye, 
Which  doth  with  joye  to  us  displaye 

The  prime  use  of  this  mistery. 

At  this  borde  of  our  newe  Ruler 
Of  newe  lawe,  newe  paschall  order 

The  auncient  rite  abolisheth  ; 
Old  decrees  by  newe  anulled, 
Shadowes  are  in  truthes  fullfilled, 

Day  former  darkenes  finisheth. 

That  at  Supper  Christ  performed, 
To  be  donne  He  straightly  charged 

For  His  eternall  memorye. 
Guided  by  His  sacred  orders, 
Bredd  and  wyne  upon  our  alters 

To  savin"  boast  we  sanctifie. 


146  SAINT  THOMAS  OF  AQUINES  HYMNE. 

Christians  are  by  faithe  assured 
That  to  flesh  the  bredd  is  chaunged, 

The  Avyne  to  bloode  most  pretious  : 
That  no  witt  nor  sence  conceiveth, 
Firnie  and  grounded  faithe  beleeveth, 

In  strange  effects  not  curious. 

Under  kyndes  two  in  appearance, 
Two  in  shewe  but  one  in  substance, 

Lye  thinges  beyond  comparison ; 
Flesh  is  meate,  bloode  drinck  most  heavenly, 
Yett  is  Christe  in  eche  kynde  wholye, 

Most  free  from  all  division. 

None  that  eateth  Him  doth  chewe  Him, 
None  that  takes  Him  doth  devide  Him^ 

Eeceivd,  He  whole  persevereth. 
Be  there  one  or  thowsandes  housled, 
One  as  much  as  all  received, 

HE  by  no  eating  perisheth. 

Both  the  good  and  badd  receive  Him, 
But  efifectes  are  divers  in  them, 

Trew  life  or  dewe  distruction. 
Life  to  the  good,  death  to  the  wicked, 
Marke  how  both  alike  received 

With  farre  unlike  conclusion. 


SAINT  THOMAS  OP  AQUTNES  HYMNE.  147 

When  the  preiste  the  hoaste  devideth, 
Knowe  that  in  ecli  parte  abideth 

All  that  the  whole  hoast  covered. 
Forme  of  bredd,  not  Christ  is  broken, 
Not  of  Christ,  but  of  His  token, 

Is  state  or  stature  altered. 

Angells'  bredd  made  pilgrims  feedinge, 
Trewly  bread  for  childrens  eatinge. 

To  doggs  not  to  be  offered. 
Signed  by  Isaake  on  the  alter. 
By  the  lambe  and  paschall  supper. 

And  in  the  manna  figured. 

Jhesu,  foode  and  feeder  of  us, 
Here  with  mercy,  feed  and  frend  us, 

Then  graunt  in  heaven  felicity ! 
Lord  of  all,  Avhome  here  Thou  feedest, 
Fellowes,  lieyres,  guestes  with  Thy  dearest, 

Make  us  in  heavenly  companye  !  Amen. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  1596  the  title  is  simply  'A  holy  Hymne :'  in  1630  'Au 
holy  Hymne.' 

St.  i.  line  5,  1596  reads  '  workes'  for  '  worthes :'  so  1630. 

St.  ii.  line  4,  1596  and  1630  read  '  Within'  for  '  Which  in.' 

Line  6,  ib.  read  '  As  doubtlesse  'twas  deliuered.' 

St.  iii.  line  2,  '  decent.' 

Line  6,  1596  misprints  '  priuie'  and  1630  '  secret'  for  '  prime 
use.'     TuRNBULL  strangely  reads  '  prince.'     See  below. 


148  SAINT  THOMAS  (IF  AQUINES  HYMNE. 

St.  iv.  line  4,  1596  aud  1630  spell  '  annill'iV  and  '  aunil'd.' 
TuRNBULL  misprints  '  be'  for  'by.' 

St.  vi.  line  6,  1596  spells  '  affects.'  In  1G30  the  following 
lines  are  substituted  for  the  next  stanzas  : 

'  As  staffe  of  bread  thy  lieart  sustaines, 
And  clieai'efull  wine  thy  strength  regaines, 

By  power  and  vertue  natural  1 : 
So  dotli  this  consecrated  food, 
Tlie  symbol  of  Christ'  flesh  and  blond 

By  vertue  supernaturall. 

Tlie  mines  of  thy  soule  repaire, 
Banisli  sinne,  liorrour  and  despaire, 
And  feed  faith,  by  faith  receiued  : 
Angels'  bread,'  &c. 

St.  vii.  line  3,  1596  reads  '  Be'  for  '  Lye.' 

St.  viii.  line  3,  '  persevereth'  used  in  a  kind  of  reflective 
sense. 

Line  4,  our  ms.  reads  'hous'led;'  Addl.  mss.  10.422  'housled,' 
and  1596  '  housoled.'  Turnbull  reads  '  hosted' =  given  the 
host.  Is  ' hous'led' = in  the  house  (of  God)  and  at  the  Supper? 
Or  is  it  parallel  (in  part)  with  Shakespeare's  '  unhouseled'  of 
Hamlet  (i.  5)  ? 

St.  ix.  line  3,  1596  reads  '  true'  for  '  dewe.' 

St.  X.  line  2,  1596  inadvertently  drops  '  in.' 

St.  xi.  line  3,  cf.  St.  Matthew  vii.  6  and  xv.  27. 

Line4,  '  signed' =:'  prresiguatur,'  presigned,  foreshadowed  or 
prefigured,  just  as  shadowed  and  figured  are  used. 

It  will  be  observed  that  our  ms.  supplies  the  lacking  syllable 
('  but')  in  st.  ii.  line  6,  and  by  its  reading  makes  st.  iii.  line  6 
agree  with  the  rest.  Turnbull  blindly  printed  the  former 
'  None  doubts  was  delivered,'  and  the  latter  '  The  prince  of  this 
mystery,'  to  the  destruction  of  the  measure  aud  meaning.  G. 


SAINT  PETEK'S  AFFLICTED  MYNDE.i 

If  that  the  siclce  may  grone, 

Or  orphane  mourne  his  losse  ; 

If  wounded  wretch  may  rue  his  harnies, 
Or  caytif  shewe  his  crosse  ; 

If  hart  consumd  with  care, 
May  utter  signes  of  payne  ; 

Then  may  my  brest  he  Sorowe's  home, 
And  tongue  with  cause  complayne. 

My  nialidye  is  synne 

And  languor  of  the  mynde  ; 

My  body  but  a  lazar's  couche 
Wherein  my  soule  is  pynde. 


The  care  of  heavenly  kynne, 

Is  ded  to  my  releife  ; 
Forlorne,  and  left  like  orphane  child, 

With  sighes  I  fecde  my  greife. 

I  Copy  ill  Addl.  mss.  10.422,  only  usual  ortho^i'iiphic  (lillcr- 
euces.  G. 


150  SAINT  Peter's  remorse. 

My  woundes,  Avitli  mortall  smarte 
My  dying  soule  tonnente, 

And,  prisoner  to  myue  owne  misliapps, 
My  foUyes  I  rejiente. 

My  hart  is  but  the  haunte 

Where  all  dislikes  do  keepe  ; 

And  who  can  blame  so  lost  a  wretche, 
Though  teares  of  bloode  he  weepe  1 


SAINT  PETEK'S  EEMOESE. 

Eemorse  upbraides  my  faultes ; 

Selfe-blaming  conscience  cries ; 
Synn  claymes  the  hoast  of  humbled  thoughtes 

And  streames  of  weej^ing  eyes  : 

Let  penance,  Lorde,  prevayle  ; 

Lett  sorowe  sue  release  ; 
Lett  love  be  unipier  in  my  cause, 

And  passe  the  dome  of  peace. 

If  dome  goe  by  deserte, 

My  lest  desert  is  death ;  least 

That  robbes  from  soule,  immortall  joyes. 

From  bodye,  murtall  bruatlie. 


SAINT  PETER'S  REMORSE.  ^^^^ 

But  in  SO  highe  a  God, 

So  base  a  worme's  annoy 
Can  add  no  praise  unto  Thy  poure, 

No  blisse  unto  Thy  joye. 

Well  may  I  frye  in  flames, 

Due  fuell  to  hell-fire  ! 
But  on  a  wretch  to  wrcake  Thy  wrath 

Cannot  be  worth  Thyne  ire. 

Yctt  sith  so  vile  a  worrae 

Hath  wrought  his  greatest  spite, 

Of  highest  treasons  well  Thou  mayst 
In  rigour  him  endite. 

Butt  Mercye  may  relente, 

And  temper  Justice'  rodd, 
For  mercy  doth  as  much  belonge 

As  justice  to  a  Godd. 

If  former  tyme  or  place 

More  right  to  mercy  wynne, 
Thou  first  wert  author  of  my  self. 

Then  umpier  of  my  synne. 

Did  Mercye  spynn  the  thredd, 

To  weave  in  Justice'  loome  1 
Wert  thou  a  Father,  to  conclude 

With  dreadfull  judge's  doome  ] 


152  SAINT  Peter's  remorse. 

It  is  a  small  releife 

To  say  I  was  Thy  childe, 

If,  as  an  evell-deserving  foe, 
From  grace  I  be  exilde. 

I  was,  I  had,  I  coulde, 

All  wordes  importing  wante  ; 

They  are  Init  dust  of  dead  supplies, 
Where  needfull  helpes  ar  scaute. 

Once  to  have  bene  in  blisse 

That  hardly  can  retorne, 
Doth  but  bewray  from  whence  I  fell, 

And  wherefore  now  I  mourne. 

All  thoughtes  of  passed  hopes 
Encrease  my  present  crosse  ; 

Like  ruynes  of  decayed  joyes, 
They  still  upbraide  my  losse. 

0  mylde  and  mighty  e  Lorde  ! 

Amend  that  is  amisse ; 
My  synn  my  sore,  Thy  love  my  salve, 
Thy  cure  my  comfort  is. 

Confirme  Thy  former  deede, 
Reforme  that  is  defild  ; 

1  was,  I  am,  I  will  remayne 

Thy  charge,  Thy  choise,  Thy  childe. 


MAN  TO  THE  WOUND  IN  CHRIST's  STDE.  IHS 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  i.  line  3,  '  host'=:hostia,  sacrifice. 

St.  iii.  line  3,  Tuenbull  misprints  '  souls,'  losing  the  anti- 
thesis. 

St.  iv.  line  2,  :=hurt  inflicted  by  God  on  the  worm. 

St.  vi.  line  3,  1596  '  treason.' 

St.  ix.  line  3,  Tuenbull  misprints  '  then'  for  'thou.' 

St.  X.  line  3,  on  '  ill'  and  '  evill,'  see  relative  note  on  St. 
Peter's  Comx^laint,  st.  ii.  line  5. 

Line  4,  1596,  '  am'  for  '  be.' 

St.  XV.  1.  1,  1596  '  deedes.'  On  st.  xi.  '  I  was  [Thy  child] , 
I  had  [Thy  gi'ace,]  I  could  [have  been  a  rock] ,  or  I  could  [have 
attained  to  bliss] ,  see  St.  Matthew  xvi.  17.  G. 


MAN  TO  THE  WOUND  IN  CHRIST'S  SIDE 

0  PLEASANT  port !  O  placc  of  rest ! 

0  royal  rift !  0  worthy  Avouiid  ! 
Come  harbour  me,  a  weary  guest, 

That  in  the  world  no  ease  haue  found  ! 

1  lie  lamenting  at  Thy  gate, 

Yet  dare  I  not  aduenture  in  : 
I  heare  Avith  me  a  troublous  mate, 

And  cumbred  am  with  heape  of  sinne. 

Discharge  me  of  this  heauy  loade, 

That  easier  passage  I  may  find, 
Within  this  bowre  to  make  aboade. 

And  in  this  glorious  toomb  be  shrin'd, 

X 


154  MAN  TO  THE  WOUND  IN  CHRIST's  SIDE. 

Here  must  I  Hue,  here  must  I  die, 
Here  would  I  vtter  all  my  griefe  ; 

Here  would  I  all  those  paines  descrie. 
Which  here  did  meete  for  my  releefe. 

Here  would  I  view  that  bloudy  sore, 

Which  dint  of  spiteful  speare  did  breed 

The  bloudy  woundes  laid  there  in  store, 
Would  force  a  stony  heart  to  bleede. 

Here  is  the  spring  of  trickling  teares. 
The  mirror  of  all  mourning  wights, 

With  dolefull  tunes  for  dumpish  eares. 

And  solemne  shewes  for  sorrowed  sights 

(Jli,  happie  soul,  that  flies  so  hie 
As  to  attaine  this  sacred  caue  ! 

Lord,  send  me  wings,  that  I  may  flie, 
And  in  this  harbour  quiet  haue  ! 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

This  poem  is  not  in  our  lis.  nor  in  Adtll.  Jiss.  10.422,  noi' 
Harleian  MS.  0021.  Our  text  is  1596,  which  corrects  Turn- 
bull's  unhappy  misprint  of  '  spot'  for  '  port'  (st.  i.  line  1).  Wo 
correct  'me'  for  'we'  (st.  vii.  line  3).  I  question  if  the  title 
given  to  this  poem  had  Southwell's  authority.  The  Poet 
speaks  of  having  'a  troublous  mate,'  i.r.  the  body,  and  the 
poem  ends,  '  Oh,  happie  soul :'  whence  I  think  the  truer  title 
were  '  Man's  Soul.'  Moreover  this  would  he  more  in  accord 
with  the  conceits  of  the  time,  as  the  wound  was  made  with  intent 
to  let  out  Christ's  life,  and  the  blood  and  water  were  deemed 


VFUN  THE  IMAGE  OF  DEATH.  155 

emblematic  of  life  given  to  man,  as  alluded  to  in  stanza  iv., 
and  there,  therefore,  man's  soul  would  enter  and  lodge. 

St.  vi.  line  4,  '  sorrowed  sights,'  eyes  in  a  state  of  sorrow. 
Cf.  St.  Peter's  Complaint,  st.  cviii.  line  4,  '  terror  from  His 
sight'^eyes. 


VPON  THE  IMAGE  OF  DEATH. 

Before  my  face  the  picture  hangs, 
That  daily  should  put  me  in  mind 

Of  those  cold  names  and  bitter  pangs, 
That  shortly  I  am  like  to  find  : 

But  yet,  alas  !  full  little  I 

Do  thinke  hereon,  that  I  must  die. 

1  often  looke  upon  a  face 

Most  vgly,  grisly,  bare  and  thinne ; 
I  often  view  the  hollow  place, 

Where  eyes  and  nose,  had  sometimes  bin : 
I  see  the  bones  acrosse  that  lie. 
Yet  little  think  that  I  must  die. 

I  reade  the  labell  vnderneath. 

That  telleth  me  whereto  I  must ; 

I  see  the  sentence  eake  that  saith, 

Remember,  man,  that  thou  art  dust : 

But  yet,  alas  !  but  seldomc,  I 

Doe  thinko  indcedc  that  I  must  die. 


15G  VPON  THE  IMAGE  OF  DEATH. 

Continually  at  my  bed's  head 

A  hearse  doth  hang,  which  doth  me  tel 
That  I  ere  morning  may  be  dead, 

Though  now  I  feele  my  selfe  ful  well : 
But  yet,  alas  !  for  all  this,  I 
Haue  little  minde  that  I  must  die. 

The  goAvne  which  I  do  vse  to  weare,  ■ 
Tlie  knife  wherewith  I  cut  my  meate. 

And  eke  that  old  and  ancient  chaire 
"Which  is  my  onely  vsuall  seate  : 

All  these  do  tel  me  I  must  die. 

And  yet  my  life  amend  not  I. 

My  ancestors  are  turnd  to  clay, 

And  many  of  my  mates  are  gone ; 

My  yongers  daily  drop  away, 

And  can  I  thinke  to  'scape  alone  1 

No,  no,  I  know  that  I  must  die, 

And  yet  my  life  amend  not  I. 

Not  Salomon,  for  all  his  wit, 

Nor  Samson,  though  he  were  so  strong, 
No  king  nor  person  euer  yet 

Could  'scape,  but  Death  laid  him  along 
AVherefore  I  know  that  I  must  die, 
And  vet  mv  life  amend  not  I. 


VPON  THE  IMAGE  OF  DEATH.  15  < 

Though  all  tlie  East  did  quake  to  lieare 

Of  Alexander's  dreadfull  name, 
And  all  the  West  did  likewise  feare 

To  heare  of  lulius  Csesar's  fame, 
Yet  hoth  by  Death  in  dust  now  lie  ; 
Who  then  can  'scape,  but  he  must  die  I 

If  none  can  'scape  Death's  dreadfull  dart, 
If  rich  and  poore  his  becke  obey  ; 

If  strong,  if  wise,  if  all  do  smart, 

Then  I  to  'scape  shall  haue  no  way. 

Oh  !  grant  me  grace,  O  God  !  that  I 

My  life  may  mend,  sith  I  must  die. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 
This  poem,  Uke  the  preceding,  is  not  in  our  ms.  nor  in  Addl. 
Mss  10  122  nor  Hakleun  ms.  6t)21.  Our  text  is  159^,  which  in 
St  'iii  line  i  corrects  Tuknbull's  misprint,  '  Rememher  man, 
thou  art  hut  dust.'  St.  u.  line  4,  the  cross-hones  or  thigh-hones, 
BO  called  hecause  they  were  generally  put  cross-^vlse  henca  h 
the  skull.  St.  iv.  line  1,  '  head'=cauopy  of  the  hed.  bt.  vi  i. 
line  2,  Hamlet  couples  the  same  names  in  a  similar  thought 
(V.  1).'  G. 


A  VALE  OF  TEAEES. 

A  VALE  there  is,  enwrapt  with  clreadfull  shades, 

"Which  thicke,  of  mourning  pynes,  shrouds  from  the 
sunne, 

Where  hanging  clyftes  yelde  shorte  and  dumpish  glades, 
And  snowye  fludd  witli  broken  streames  doth  runne. 

Wliere  eye  rome  is  from  rockes  to  clowdye  skye, 
From  thence  to  dales  with  stony  ruyns  strowd. 

Then  to  the  crushed  water's  frothy  frye, 

AVTiich  tumbleth  from  the  toppes  where  snowe  is 
thowde. 

Where  eares  of  other  sounde  can  have  no  choise, 
But  various  blustringe  of  the  stubborne  wynde 

In  trees,  in  caves,  in  strayts  with  divers  noyse ; 

Which  now  doth  hisse,  now  howle,  now  roare  by 
kinde. 

Where  waters  wrastle  with  encountringe  stones, 

That  breake  their  streames  and  turne  them  into 
fome. 
The  hoUowe  cloudes  full  fraught  with  thundring  grones, 
With  liideous  thumpes   discharge  their  pregnant 
wome. 


A  VALE  OF  TEARES.  159 

And  in  the  horrour  of  this  fearcfull  quire 

Consistes  the  musickc  of  this  dolefull  place  ; 

All  pleasant  birdes  their  tunes  from  thence  retyre, 
Where  none  but  heavy  notes  have  any  grace. 

Resort  there  is  of  none  but  pilgrimm  wightes, 

That  passe  vi^ith  trembling  foote  and  panting  hart ; 

With  terrour  cast  in  colde  and  shuddring  frightes, 
They  judge  the  place  to  terror  framed  by  art. 

Yett  K"ature's  worke  it  is,  of  art  untoAvch't, 
So  straite  in  deede,  so  vast  unto  the  eye, 

With  such  disordred  order  strangely  cowcht. 
And  so  with  pleasing  horrour  low  and  hye, 

That  who  it  vewes  must  needes  remayne  agaste, 

Much  at  the  worke,  more  at  the  Maker's  mighte ; 

And  muse  how  Nature  suche  a  plott  coulde  caste 

Where  nothing  seemed  wronge,  yett  nothinge  right. 

A  place  for  mated  myndes,  an  onely  boure 

Where  everye  tliinge  doth  sooth  a  dumpish  moode  ; 

Earth  Ij'es  forlorne,  the  clowdy  skye  doth  lowrc, 

The   wind   here   weepes,    here   sighes,   here    cryes 
alowde. 

The  strugling  floode  betwene  the  marble  grones, 
Then  roaring  beates  uppon  the  craggy  sides ; 

A  little  off,  amids  the  pible  stones. 

With  bubling  streames  and  purling  noyse  it  glides. 


IGO  A  VALE  OF  TEARES. 

Tlie  pynes  thicke  sett,  highe  growen  and  ever  greene, 
Still  cloath  the  place  with  sadd  and  mourning  vayle ; 

Here  gapinge  cliffe,  there  mossy  playne  is  seene, 

Here  hope  doth  springe,  and  there  agayne  doth  quaile. 

Hnge  massy  stones  that  hange  by  tide  staye, 

Still  threaten  fall,  and  seeme  to  hange  in  feare ; 

Some  withered  trees,  ashamd  of  their  decaye, 

Besett  with  greene  are  forc'd  gray  coates  to  weare. 

Here  christall  springes  crept  out  of  secrete  veyne, 
Strait  finde   some  envious  hole  that  hides  their 
grace ; 

Here  seared  tuftes  lament  the  wante  of  rayne, 

There  thunder-wrack  gives  terrour  to  the  place. 

All  pangues  and  heavy  passions  here  may  finde 
A  thowsand  motives  sutely  to  theire  greifes, 

To  feed  the  sorrowes  of  their  troubled  mynde, 

And  chase  away  dame  Pleasure's  vayne  releifes. 

To  playninge  thoughtes  this  vale  a  rest  may  bee, 
To  which  from  worldly  joyes  they  may  retire ; 

Where  Sorowe  springes  from  water,  stone  and  tree ; 
Where  every  thinge  with  mourners  doth  conspire. 

Sett  here,  my  soule,  mayn  streames  of  teares  aflote, 
Here  all  thy  synnfull  foyles  alone  recounte ; 

Of  solemne  tunes  make  thou  the  dollfullst  note, 
That,  to  thy  dityes,  dolour  maye  amounte. 


A  VALE  OF  TEARES.  161 

When  eccho  doth  repeate  thy  playnefull  cryes, 
Thinck  that  the  very  stones  thy  synnes  bewray, 

And  nowe  accuse  thee  with  their  sadd  replyes, 
As  heaven  and  earth  shall  in  the  later  day. 

Lett  former  faultes  be  fuell  of  the  fire, 

For  greife,  in  lymbeck  of  thy  hart,  to  'still 

Thy  pensive  thoughtes  and  dumpes  of  thy  desire, 
And  vapour  teares  upp  to  thy  eyes  at  will. 

Lett  teares  to  tunes,  and  paynes  to  playnts  be  prest, 
And  lett  this  be  the  burden  of  thy  songe — 

Come,  deepe  Eemorse,  possesse  my  synfull  brest ; 
Delightes,  ailiew  !  I  harboured  yowe  too  longe. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  1596  this  poem  is  not  divided  into  stanzas.  Addl.  ms. 
10.422  and  Harleian  ms.  6921  agi-ee  with  oiu-  ms.  save  in  usual 
orthocfiaphic  differences. 

St.  i.  line  4,  in  1596  reads  '  flouds do.' 

St.  ii.  line  2,  ib.  misreads  '  which  stormy  ruines  shroud  :'  so 
1630. 

St.  V.  line  2,  consists  =  agrees  with,  harmonises  with. 

St.  \i.  line  3, 1  have  adopted  '  shuddring'  from  1596  and  1630 
for  'shivering:'  but  1596  misreads  here  'With  terrour  cast.  .  .  . 
And  all  the  place.  .  .'     So  also  1630. 

Line  4,  'to  terror:'  Latinate  ad  tcrrorem,  and  perhaps  as 
dedicated  to  terror. 

St.  vii.  line  4,  Turnbull  misprints  '  with'  for  '  so.' 

St.  viii.  line  3,  '  plot'  in  a  double  sense  of  a  conspiracy  and 
plot  of  ground. 

Line  4,  1596  misprints  'her'  for  'here'  {his). 

St.  ix.  line  2,  Turnbuli,  misprints  '  do'  for  '  doth :'  ib.  sooth 
=  not  allay,  but  assent  to,  agree  with  ;  and  hence  soothed  is  — 


162  THE  PRODIGALL  CHYLd's  SOULE  WRACKE. 

flattered  by,  in  st.  xiv.  line  2  of  '  The  ProcUgall  Chyld's  Soule 
Wi'acke.' 

St.  X.  line  4,  1596  misreads  '  a  purling :'  so  1630.  See  on 
this  word  relative  note  in  our  Hem-y  Vaughan  s.  v. 

St.  xi.  line  4,  1596  reads  '  mosse  gi-owne  :'  so  1630. 

St.  xii.  line  2,  1596  and  1630  spell  '  foule.' 

Line  4,  Turnbull  blunderingly  amends  '  Bereft  of  for  '  Be- 
sett  with,'  missing  the  pathos  of  the  blanched  trunk  ringed  with 
living  gi-een  trees. 

St.  xiii.  line  3,  1596  misprints  '  wants  of  gi-ace  :'  so  1630. 

St.  xvi.  line  1,  1596  reads  '  Sit'  for  '  Sett :'  so  1630. 

St.  xvii.  line  1,  1596  and  1630  have  'doth'  for  '  shall.' 

St.  xix.  line  2,  1596  reads  '  burthen  to.'  See  our  Memorial- 
Introduction  for  the  relation  of  the  '  Vale  of  Tears'  to  Hood's 
'  Haunted  House.'  G. 


THE  PEODIGALL  CHYLD'S  SOULE  WRACKE. 

DiSANCRED  from  a  blisfull  shore, 

And  lanch'd  into  the  niaygne  of  cares  ; 

Groune  rich  in  vice,  in  vertewe  pore, 
From  freedome  falne  in  fatall  snares ; 

I  founde  my  selfe  on  every  syde 
Enwrapped  in  the  waves  of  woe, 

And,  tossed  with  a  toylsome  tyde, 
Coukl  to  no  port  for  refuge  goe. 

The  wrastling  wyndes  with  raging  blasts, 
Still  holde  me  in  a  creAvell  chase ; 

They  breake  my  ankers,  sayles  and  mastes, 
Permitting  no  reposing  place. 


THE  PRODIGALL  CHYLU's  SOULE  WRACKK.  163 

The  boystrous  seas,  with  swelling  fludds, 
On  every  syde  did  worke  theire  spyte, 

Heaven,  overcast  with  stormy  cloudes, 
Deny'd  the  planets'  guyding  lyght. 

The  hellishe  furyes  laye  in  wayte 

To  wynn  my  soule  into  theire  poure, 

To  make  me  byte  at  everye  bayte, 

Wherein  my  bane  I  might  devoure. 

Thus  heaven  and  hell,  thus  sea  and  land, 
Thus  stormes  and  tempests  did  conspire. 

With  just  revenge  of  scourging  hand, 
To  witnesse  God's  deserved  ire. 

I,  plunged  in  this  heavy e  plyght, 

Founde  in  my  faltes  just  cause  of  feare  ; 

By  darkness  taught  to  knowe  my  light, 
The  loss  thereof  enforced  teares. 

I  felt  my  in\Yarde-bleeding  soares, 

My  festred  wounds  beganne  to  smart, 

Stept  farr  within  deathe's  fatall  dores. 

The  pangues  thereof  were  neere  my  hart. 

I  cryed  truce,  I  craved  peace, 

A  league  with  death  I  woulde  conclude  ; 
But  vaine  it  was  to  sue  release, 

Subdue  I  must  or  bee  subdude. 


164  THE  PKODIGALL  CHYLD's  SOULE  WRACKE. 

Death  and  deceite  had  pitch'd  theire  snares, 
And  putt  theire  wicked  proofes  in  ure, 

To  sincke  me  in  despayring  cares, 

Or  make  me  stoupe  to  pleasure's  lure. 

They  sought  by  theire  bewitching  charmes 
So  to  enchant  my  erring  sense. 

That  when  they  sought  my  greatest  harmes, 
I  might  neglect  my  best  defense. 

My  dazeled  eyes  coulde  take  no  vew, 
ISTo  heed  of  theire  deceiving  shiftes, 

So  often  did  they  alter  hew, 

And  practise  new-devised  driftes. 

With  Syren's  songs  they  fedd  my  eares, 
Till,  lul'd  asleepe  in  Error's  lapp, 

I  found  these  tunes  turn'd  into  teares, 
And  short  delightes  to  long  mishapp. 

For  I  entysed  to  theire  lore. 

And  soothed  with  theire  idle  toyes, 

"Was  trayned  to  theire  prison  dore — 
The  end  of  all  such  flying  joyes. 

Where  cheyn'd  in  synn  I  lay  in  thrall, 
Next  to  the  dungeon  of  despaire, 

Till  Mercy  raysd  me  from  my  fall, 
And  Grace  my  ruines  did  repairs. 


MAN  S  CIVILE  WARRE. 


•165 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  1596  this  poem  is  printed  in  long  lines  continuously,  not 
in  stanzas. 

St.  i.  line  2,  1596  misprints  '  meane'  for  '  maine.' 

St.  iii.  line  3,  I  adopt  '  breake'  from  1596  for  '  broke.' 

St.  ix.  line  1,  Turnbull  mis-inserts  '  a'  (bis). 

St.  X.  line  2,  '  ure'  =  use. 

St.  xii.  line  2,  1596  misprints  '  receiving.' 

St.  xiii.  line  3,  1596  reads  '  theii-'  for  '  these.'  G. 


MAN'S  CIVILL  WAERE. 

My  hoveringe  thoughtes  would  fly  to  heaven, 

And  quiet  nestle  in  the  skye; 
Fayne  would  my  shipp  in  Vertue's  shore 

Without  remove  at  anker  lye  ; 


But  mounting  thoughtes  are  haled  downe 
With  heavy  poyse  of  mortall  loade ; 

And  blustringe  stormes  denye  my  shipp 
In  Vertue's  haven  secure  aboade. 


hauled 
poise 


When  inward  eye  to  heavenly  sightes 
Doth  drawe  my  longing  hart's  desire, 

The  world  with  jesses  of  delightes 

Would  to  her  perch  my  thoughtes  retyre. 


166  man's  civill  warre. 

Fonde  Phancy  traynes  to  Pleasure's  lure, 

Though  Eeason  stiffly  do  repine  ; 
Thoughe  Wisdome  woe  me  to  the  sainte, 

Yet  Sense  would  Avynne  me  to  the  shrine. 

Wheare  Eeason  loathes,  there  Phancy  loves, 

And  overrules  the  captive  will ; 
Foes  sences  are  to  Vertue's  lore, 

They  drawe  the  witt  their  wish  to  fill. 

Need  craves  consent  of  soule  to  sence, 
Yett  divers  bents  breed  civill  fraye  ; 

Hard  happ  where  halves  must  disagree, 
Or  truce  of  halves  the  whole  betraye  ! 

O  crueU  fight  !  wliere  fightinge  frende 
With  love  doth  kill  a  favoringe  foe ; 

Where  peace  with  sence  is  warr  with  God, 
And  self-delite  the  seede  of  woe  ! 

Dame  Pleasure's  drugges  are  steept  in  synne, 
Their  sugred  tast  doth  breed  annoye ; 

0  fickle  Sence  !  beware  her  gynn, 
Sell  not  thy  soule  to  brittle  joye  ! 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  1596  this  poem  is  printed  in  long  continuous  lines — a 
avourite  form. 

St.  ii.  line  1,  1596  reads  '  mounted'  and  '  hailed.' 


SBEKE  FLOWERS  OF  HEAVEN.  167 

Line  4,  our  ms.  and  Addl.  ms.  10.422  read  '  secure :'  the 
reading  of  1596, '  sure,'  is  needed  by  the  rhythm,  unless  '  haven' 
be  read  as  one  syllable. 

St.  iii.  line  3,  1596  misprints  '  lesses." 

St.  iv.  line  3,  1596  reads  here  '  Reason'  for  '  Wisdome,'  and 
next  st.  line  1,  '  wisdome'  for  '  reason.' 

St.  V.  line  2,  1596  reads  '  euer  rules.' 

Line  3,  1596  misprints  '  and'  for  '  are.' 

St.  vi.  hue  3,  happ  is  here  =  chance  or  lot.  So  in  'Decease, 
Release,'  st.  iii.  line  3  ;  and  '  I  die  without  Desert,'  st.  ii.  line  6. 

Line  4,  reads  '  trust'  for  '  truce.' 

St.  viii.  lines  9-10.  Pi'obably  in  allusion  to  a  house-dame's 
gin,  where  flies  are  enticed  to  sugared  and  poisoned  water.  G. 


SEEKE  FLOWERS  OF  HEAVEN, 

SoARE  upp,  my  soule,  unto  thy  reste, 
Cast  off  this  loathsome  loade  ; 

Long  is  the  date  of  thy  exile, 
Too  long  thy  straite  aboade, 

Grase  not  on  worldly  withered  weede, 

It  fitteth  not  thy  taste  ; 
The  floures  of  everlastinge  Springe 

Do  growe  for  tliy  repaste. 

Their  leaves  are  stayn'd  in  hewtye's  dye, 
And  biased  with  their  beames. 

Their  stalkes  enameld  with  delight, 
And  lymm'd  with  glorious  gleames. 


168  SEEKE  FLOWERS  OF  HEAVEN. 

Life-giving  juce  of  livinge  love 

Their  siigred  veynes  doth  fill, 
And  watered  with  eternall  shoures 

They  nectared  dropps  distill. 

These  floures  do  spring  from  fertile  soyle, 

Though  from  unmanur'd  feilde  ; 
Most  glittering  goulde  in  lewe  of  glebe, 

These  fragrant  flowers,  doth  yelde. 

Whose  soveraigne  sent  surpassing  sense 

So  ravisheth  the  niynde, 
That  worldly  weedes  needes  must  he  loath 
That  can  these  floweres  finde. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

TuRNBULL  lias  some  annoying  misprints  in  this  poem :  e.g. 
St.  i.  line  3,  '  death'  for  '  date  ;'  line  4,  '  strict'  for  '  straite'  = 
narrow,  confined  :  st.  ii.  line  1,  '  wood'  for  '  weede  :'  st.  iii.  line 
2,  'her'  for  'their'  (=the  leaves  not  Beauty).  St.  v.  line  2, 
note  the  accentuation  of  '  unmanur'd,'  on  which  there  has  been 
recently  an  exchange  of  Notes  and  Queries  in  N.  and  Q.  While 
Dyche's  Dictionary  (7th  edition,  1752)  gives  '  manure'  sub- 
stantive, and  '  manfire'  verb,  and  so  bears  out  for  that  later 
date,  Mr.  Earle's  conjecture,  our  text  until  farther  evidence  be 
obtained,  renders  it  doubtful  whether  Southwell  has  taken  a 
poetic  license,  or  whether  the  word,  like  revenue,  had  a  double 
pronunciation.  Lines  3-4 :  construction — gold  not  glebe  does 
yield  these  flowers.  The  '  do'  (of  1596)  hitherto  printed,  which 
in  part  causes  the  confusion,  is  '  doth'  properly  in  our  ms.,  the 
correction  being  in  S.'s  own  handwriting.  St.  vi.  line  3  explains 
St.  ii.  line  1,  as  not  worldly-withered  but  worldly  withered.  G. 


MELOFOLIA,  OR  APPLES  IN  LEAVES. 


NOTE. 

I  brine;  together  here,  under  the  title  of  Melofolia,  such  Poems 
as  were  not  induded  in  1595,  1596  or  any  of  the  early  editions. 
Those  printed  by  Walter,  and  with  his  ineradicable  careless- 
ness by  TuRNBULL,  from  mss.  in  the  British  Museum,  are  also 
preserved  among  the  Stoxyhurst  mss.  and  with  a  superior 
text.  As  before,  I  reproduce  the  Stonyhurst  text ;  but  in  Notes 
and  Illustrations  at  close  of  each  poem  will  be  found  various 
readings  and  authorities  for  the  others.  G. 


^r^^r^s 


DECEASE,  EELEASE.     DUM  MOKIOR,  ORIOR. 

The  pounded  spice  both  ta.st  and  sent  doth  please, 
In  fading  smoke  the  force  doth  incense  shewe  ; 

The  perisht  kernell  springeth  Avith  increase, 

The  lopped  tree  doth  best  and  soonest  growe. 

God's  spice  I  was,  and  pounding  was  my  due, 
In  fadinge  breath  my  incense  savored  best ; 

Death  was  the  meane,  my  kyrnell  to  renewe, 
By  loppinge  shott  I  upp  to  heavenly  rest. 

Some  thinges  more  perfect  are  in  their  decaye, 
Like  sparke  that  going  out  gives  clerest  light ; 

Such  was  my  happ,  whose  dolefull  dying  daye 
Beganne  my  joy  and  termed  Fortune's  spite. 

Alive  a  Queene,  now  dead  I  am  a  saiute ; 

Once  Mary  called,  my  name  nowe  Martyr  is ; 
From  earthly  raigne  debarred  by  restraint, 

In  liew  wliereof  I  raigne  in  heavenly  blisse. 

My  life  my  greife,  my  death  hath  wrought  my  joye. 
My  frendes  my  foyle,  my  foes  my  weale  procur'd  ; 

My  speedy  death  hath  shortncd  longe  annoye. 
And  losse  of  life  an  endles  life  assur'd. 


172  DECEASE,  RELEASE. 

My  skaffold  was  the  bedd  where  ease  I  founde, 
The  blocke  a  pillowe  of  eteriiall  reste  ; 

My  hedman  cast  me  in  a  blisfull  swounde, 

His  axe  cutt  off  my  cares  from  combred  breste. 

Rue  not  my  death,  rejoyce  at  my  repose ; 

It  was  no  death  to  me,  but  to  my  woe ; 
The  budd  was  opened  to  lett  out  the  rose, 

The  cheynes  unloos'd  to  let  the  captive  goe. 

A  prince  by  birth,  a  prisoner  by  mishappe. 

From  crowne  to  crosse,  from  throne  to  thrall  I  fell ; 

My  right  my  ruthe,  my  titles  wrought  my  trapp. 
My  weale  my  woe,  my  worldly  heaven  my  hell. 

By  death  from  prisoner  to  a  prince  enhaunc'd, 

From  crosse  to  crowne,  from  thrall  to  throne  againe; 
.  My  ruth  my  right,  my  trapp  my  stile  advauncd 

From  woe  to  weale,  from  hell  to  heavenly  raigne. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Walter  was  the  first  to  print  this  poem  from  Addl.  ms. 
10.422,  and  to  entitle  it  '  On  the  unfortunate  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots  :'  but  his  text  is  mere  carelessness.  Tuenbull  followed, 
but  in  st.  ii.  line  2  mis-read  '  favour'd'  for  '  savor'd,'  &c.  &c. 
&c.  Our  MS.  corrects  in  st.  v.  line  3,  by  reading  '  shortned'  for 
'  scorned,'  and  line  4  '  an'  for  '  and.'  In  our  ms.  the  Poet  has 
left  the  name  of  '  Mary'  (st.  iv.)  unfilled  in— a  suggestive  fact. 
The  '  Mary'  was  unquestionably  Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  See 
Notes  at  close  of  next  poem.  In  st.  i.  line  2  ='  It  is  in  fading 
smoke  that  incense  shows  its  foi'ce'  (as  in  fading  life  did  Mary) : 
in  st.  iii.  line  4,  'termed,'  causal  sense  of  verb — made  a  tei-m  or 
limit  of,  ended:  in  st.  viii.  line  1,  'prince:'  see  relative  note  on 
'  The  Visitation,'  st.  ii.  line  1.  G. 


^wi^^^^ 


I  DYE  WITHOUT  DESERT. 

If  orphane  cliilde,  eiiwrapt  in  swathing  bands, 
Doth  move  to  mercy  when  forlorne  it  lyes ; 

If  none  without  remorse  of  love  withstands 
The  pitioiis  noyse  of  infante's  selye  cryes  ; 

Then  hope,  my  helpelesse  hart,  some  tender  eares 

Will  rue  thy  orphane  state  and  feeble  tea  res. 

Eelinquisht  lamb,  in  solitarye  wood, 

With  dying  bleat  doth  move  the  toughest  mynde ; 
The  grasping  pangues  of  new  engendred  brood, 

Base  though  they  be,  compassion  use  to  iinde : 
Why  should  I  then  of  pitty  doubt  to  speede, 
Whose  happ  would  force  the  hardest  hart  to  bleede  1 


Left  orphane-like  in  helpelesse  state  I  rue, 

With  onely  sighes  and  teares  I  pleade  my  case  ; 

My  dying  plaints  I  daylie  do  renewe. 

And  fill  with  heavy  noyse  a  desert  place  : 

Some  tender  hart  will  weepe  to  here  me  mone  ; 

Men  pitty  may,  but  helpe  me  God  alone  ! 


174  I  DYE  WITHOUT  DESERT. 

Eayne  downe,  yee  heavens,  your  teares  this  case  requires ; 

Man's  eyes  unhable  are  enough  to  shedd ; 
If  sorow  could  have  place  in  heavenly  quires, 

A  juster  ground  the  world  hath  seldome  bredd  : 
For  Right  is  Avrongd  and  Vertue  wagd  with  blood  ; 
The  badd  are  blissd,  God  murdred  in  the  good. 

A  gracious  plant  for  fruite,  for  leafe  and  flower, 
A  peereles  gemm  for  vertue,  proofe  and  price, 

A  noble  peerc  for  prowesse,  witt,  and  pourfe, 
A  frend  to  truth,  a  foe  I  was  to  vice  ; 

And  Ice,  alas  !  nowe  innocente  I  dye, 

A  case  that  might  even  make  the  stones  to  crye.       e'en 

Thus  Fortune's  favors  still  are  bent  to  flight. 
Thus  worldly  blisse  in  finall  bale  doth  end ; 

Tims  Yertue  still  pursued  is  with  spight. 

But  let  my  fall,  though  ruefull,  none  offend  : 

God  doth  sometymes  first  cropp  the  sweetest  floure. 

And  leaves  the  weede  till  Tyme  do  it  devoure. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Waltek  again  first  printed  this  from  Acldl.  MS.  10.422,  Lnt 
again  very  badly.  So  too  Tuknbull,  who  mis-read  in  st.  i.  line  5 
'  cares'  for  '  eares,'  &c.  &c.  Our  ms.  corrects  st.  iv.  line  5,  by 
reading  '  wrongd'  for  'wrong;'  and  in  st.  vi.  line  4,  'fall'  for 
'  fate.'  Probably  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  is  the  supposed  speaker, 
as  in  the  preceding  poem.  See  also  the  Latin  Elegy,  first  printed 
by  us,  in  which  the  Shade  ('  Umbra')  of  Mary  laments  her  hap- 
less fate.    In  st.  i.  line  3,  remorse  of  love  is  =;  loving  pity. 

'  Sely'  =  silly  (st.  i.  line  4)  is  so  frequently-used  a  word  in 


I  DYE  WITHOUT  DESERT.  175 

Southwell,  that  I  gladly  avail  myself  of  the  present  opportunity 
of  bringing  together  a  number  of  memoranda  on  it,  the  more 
readily  that  my  invaluable  friend  Dr.  Brinsley  Nicholson  has 
here  specially  enriched  me  from  his  rare  stores.  Besides  the 
meaning  now  attached  to  '  silly,'  there  is  no  question  but  it 
had  those  of  innocent,  harmless,  plain,  and  simi^le,  and  the 
like,  much  as  simple  and  innocent  have  similar  shades  of  mean- 
ing at  the  present  time,  and,  as  they  are  substantively  used, 
not  without  touch  of  pathos,  for  '  silly'  persons  or  idiots.  Nor 
is  it  necessary  to  enter  into  its  real  or  supposed  derivation  from 
f!elig,  blessed  or  holy,  to  understand  the  connection  between 
these  several  meanings.  Southwell's  '  silly  shroud'  (Content 
and  Rich,  st.  ii.  line  3)  may  with  Shakespeare's  '  silly  habit' 
(Cymbeline,  v.  3)  mean  simple  or  plain  clothing;  and  the  'silly 
women'  of  the  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  (iv.  1),  and  the  '  silly 
sheep'  of  3  Henry  VI.  (ii.  5),  and  the  'silly  beasts'  of  'New 
Prince,  New  Pompe'  (st.  ii.  line  3),  are  so  called  as  innocent, 
hai-mless,  and  inoffensive,  as  in  part  at  least  the  doves  of  '  The 
Presentation'  (st.  i.  line  2)  are  silly  or  innocent. 

But  there  is  a  now  provincial  North-country  use  of  '  silly'  in 
the  sense  of  '  sickly'  or  '  weakly'  (Halliwell's  Ar.  Diet.  s.  v.)  de- 
rived from  the  stronger  sense  of  sillies,  simples,  or  innocents, 
because  they  are  not  only  weakly  of  mind,  but  frequently  weakly 
in  body  and  constitution,  so  much  so  that  from  their  increased 
desire  for  warmth  comes  the  sarcastic  proverbial  saying — '  Yea, 
wit  enough  to  keep  himself  loarm.'  Now,  as'svith  other  provincial 
words  and  meanings,  this  provincialism  is  but  the  shrunken 
remnant  of  a  more  mdely-spread  usage.  No  other  sense  can, 
I  think,  be  given  it  in  Mary  Magdalen's  Complayut  at  Christ's 
Death  in  st.  ii.  line  1,  and  Lewd  Love  is  Losse  (st.  ii.  1.  4— so 
stupidly  misprinted  '  folly'  by  Tuenbull),  nor  can  the  '  silly  beg- 
gars' of  Richard  II.  (v.  5)  be  anything  but  poor  beggars;  for 
there  is  no  reason  why  Richard  should  call  them  '  harmless.' 
Nor  could  the  beggars  and  vagabonds  of  Shakespeare's  time  be 
as  a  class  so  called;  the  representatives  of  them  give  them  the 
very  opposite  character,  and  we  know  that  they  were  hung  by 
thousands  in  Henry  VIII. 's  time  : 

'  Tlioughts  tending  to  content,  flatter  themselves 
That  they  are  not  tlie  first  of  Fortune's  slaves. 
Nor  shall  not  be  the  last ;  like  silly  beggars, 
^\'>lO  sitting  in  the  stocks,  refuge  their  shame. 
That  many  have,  and  others  must  sit  there.' 

So  in  1  Henry  VI.  (ii.  3)  it  is  tolerably  clear  from  the  context 


17G  I  DYE  WITHOUT  DESERT. 

that  the  Countess  does  not  mean  to  call  Talbot  an  inoffensive 

but  a  '  silly'  weakly  dwarf : 

'  Alas,  this  is  a  child,  a  silly  dwarf ! 
It  cannot  be  this  weak  and  writheld  shrimp 
Should  strike  snch  terror  to  his  enemies.' 

And  in  Cymbeline  (v.  3)  '  poor  habit'  is  a  better  gloss  than 
plain,  both  from  the  context  and  from  the  passage  (v.  1),  where 
Posthumus  says  he  will '  habit'  himself  as  a  Breton  peasant,  and 
lead  the  fashion  of  less  without  and  more  within.  From '  weakly' 
we  easily  arrive  at  '  poor'  or '  insignificant,'  and  one  of  the  three 
meanings  must  be  given  to  two  of  the  quotations  in  Richard- 
son's Dictionary,  from  Hall's. Satii-es  (vi.  1)  and  Beowne's  Pas- 
torals, as  to  the  '  silly  ant'  or  other  insect  compared  with  an 
elephant,  or  silly  canoe  of  wood  or  bark  as  compared  with 
builded  vessels ;  while  weakly,  if  not  the  main  sense,  is  certainly 
involved  in  a  thii'd  quotation  from  Chapman  (Iliad,  b.  viii.), 

'  0  fools,  to  raise  such  silly  forts,'  &c. 
In  other  passages  also  where  this  sense  is  not  a  necessity,  it 
still  seems  to  be  involved  and  to  give  a  much  fuller  meaning. 
The  '  siUy  turtle  doves'  of  The  Presentation  (st.  i.  line  2)  are 
contrasted  with  '  empires  ware,'  and  the  infant's  silly  or  weakly 
plaintive  cries  with  the  feeble  tears  of  the  next  and  parallel 
line  of  '  I  die  without  Desert'  (as  before).  Palsgeave  also,  as 
quoted  by  Halliwell,  gives  'sely'  as  'pavoreux;'  and  with  this 
we  may  take  '  she  sighit  sely  sore,'  and,  against  Ellis  and 
Jamieson's  '  wonderfully  sore,'  gloss  it  as  '■piteously  sore,'  and 
regard  it  as  akin  to  Palsgeave's  '  sely,' '  wi-etehed'  or '  meschant.' 
'  SiUy'  ('  sely')  in  David's  Peccavi  (st.  i.  line  3)  seems  to  be 
best  glossed  by  '  pavoreux,'  as  indicated  by  the  first  line  of  next 
stanza. 

In  st.  iv.  line  5,  '  wag'd' =  recompensed.  G. 


OF  THE  BLESSED  SACEAMENT  OF  THE 
AULTER. 

In  pascliall  feast,  the  end  of  auncient  rite, 
An  entraunce  was  to  never-endinge  grace ; 

Tipes  to  the  truth,  dymm  glymses  to  the  hght ; 
Perforniinge  deed  presaging  signes  did  chase  : 

Christe's  final  nieale  was  fountayne  of  our  good, 

For  niortall  meate  He  gave  immortall  foode. 

That  which  He  gaue.  He  was  :  0  peerelesse  gifts  ! 

Both  God  and  man  He  was,  and  both  He  gaue. 
He  in  His  handes  Himself  did  trewlye  lifte, 

Farre  off  they  see  whome  in  them  selves  they  have; 
Twelve  did  He  feede,  twelve  did  their  feeder  eate, 
He  made.  He  dressd.  He  gave.  He  was  their  meate. 

They  sawe,  they  harde,  they  felt  Him  sitting  nere, 
Unseene,  unfelt,  unhard,  they  Him  receivd ; 

No  diverse  thinge,  though  divers  it  appeare ; 
Though  sences  faile,  yet  faith  is  not  deceiv'd ; 

And  if  the  Avonder  of  the  worke  be  newe, 

Beleive  the  worke  because  His  worde  is  trewe. 

Here  truth  beleefe,  beleefe  inviteth  love. 

So  sweete  a  truth  Love  never  yett  enjoy'd  ; 

A  A 


178         OF  THE  BLESSED  SACRAMENT  OF  THE  AULTER. 

Wliat  thoixght  can  thiiicke,  what  will  doth  hest  approve, 

Is  here  obteyn'd  where  no  desire  ys  voyde  : 
The  grace,  the  joy,  the  treasure  here  is  such, 
No  witt  can  wishe,  nor  will  emhrace  so  much. 

Self-love  here  cannot  crave  more  then  it  fyndes ; 

Ambition  to  noe  higher  worth  aspire  ; 
Tlie  eagrest  famyn  of  most  hungry  myndes 

May  fill,  yea  farre  exceede  their  owne  desire  : 
In  suram  here  is  all  in  a  summ  expressd, 
Of  much  the  most,  of  every  good  the  best. 

To  ravishe  eyes  here  heavenly  bewtyes  are ; 

To  winne  the  eare  sweete  nmsick's  sweetest  sound  ; 
To  lure  the  tast  the  angells'  heavenly  fare ; 

To  sooth  the  sent  divine  perfumes  abounde ; 
To  please  the  touch.  He  in  our  hartes  doth  bedd, 
AVhose  touch  doth  cure  the  dephe,  the  dumm,  the  dedd. 

Here  to  delight  tlie  witt  trewe  wisdome  is, 

To  wooe  the  will — of  every  good  the  choise  ; 

For  memory,  a  mirrhor  showing  blisse  ; 

Here's  all  that  can  both  sence  and  soule  rejoyce  ; 

And  if  to  all,  all  this  it  do  not  bringe. 

The  fault  is  in  the  men,  not  in  the  thinge. 

Though  blynde  men  see  no  light,  the  sunne  doth  shyne; 

Sweete  cates  are  sweete,  though  fevered  tastes  deny  it; 
Perles  pretious  are,  though  trodden  on  by  swyne  ; 

Ech  truth  is  trewe,  though  all  men  do  not  trye  it ; 


OF  THE  BLESSED  SACRAMENT  OF  THE  AULTER.         179 

The  best  still  to  the  badd  doth  worke  the  worste  ; 
Thinges  bredd  to  blisse  do  make  them  more  accurst. 

The  angells'  eyes,  whome  veyles  cannot  deceive, 
Might  best  disclose  that  best  they  do  descerne ; 

Men  must  with  sounde  and  silent  faith  receive 
More  then  they  can  by  sence  or  reason  lerne ; 

God's  poure  bur  proofes,  His  workes  our  vntt  exceede, 

The  doer's  might  is  reason  of  His  deede. 

A  body  is  endew'd  with  ghostly  rightes ; 

And  ligature's  worke  from  I^ature's  law  is  free  ] 
In  heavenly  sunne  lye  hidd  eternall  lightes, 

Lightes  cleere  and  neere,  yet  them  no  eye  can  see  : 
Dedd  formes  a  never-dyinge  life  do  shroude ; 
A  boundlesse  sea  lyes  in  a  little  cloude. 

The  God  of  hoastes  in  slender  hoste  doth  dwell, 
Yea,  God  and  man  with  all  to  ether  dewe. 

That  God  that  rules  the  heavens  and  rifled  hell. 
That  man  whose  death  did  us  to  life  renews : 

That  God  and  man  that  is  the  angells'  blisse, 

In  forme  of  bredd  and  wyne  our  nurture  is. 

Whole  may  His  body  be  in  smallest  breadd. 

Whole  in  the  whole,  yea  whole  in  every  crumme  • 

With  which  be  one  or  be  tenn  thowsand  fedd. 
All  to  ech  one,  to  all  but  one  doth  cunime ; 

And  though  ech  one  as  much  as  all  receive, 

Not  one  too  much,  nor  all  too  little  have. 


1  80         OF  THE  BLESSED  SACRAMENT  OF  THE  AULTER. 

One  soule  in  man  is  all  in  everye  part ; 

One  face  at  once  in  many  mirrhors  sliynes ; 
One  fearefuU  noyse  cloth  make  a  tliowsand  start ; 

One  eye  at  once  of  countlesse  thinges  defynes ; 
If  proofes  of  one  in  many,  Nature  frame, 
God  may  in  straunger  sort  performe  the  same. 

God  present  is  at  once  in  everye  place, 

Yett  God  in  every  place  is  ever  one  ; 
So  may  there  be  by  giftes  of  ghostly  grace, 

One  man  in  many  roomes,  yett  filling  none  ; 
Sith  angells  may  effects  of  bodyes  shewe, 
God  angells'  giftes  on  bodyes  may  bestowe. 

What  God  as  auctour  made  He  alter  may ; 

No  change  so  harde  as  making  all  of  nought ; 
If  Adam  framed  were  of  slyniye  claye, 

Bredd  may  to  Christe's  most  sacred  flesh  be  wrought : 
He  may  do  this  that  made  with  mighty  hande 
Of  water  wyne,  a  snake  of  Moyses'  wande. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

We  give  the  above  iioem  from  our  ms.  (Stonyhurst)  with 
Blight  exceptions,  noted  in  the  places  below.  Tubnbull  printed 
it  with  such  errors  as  really  turn  it  into  nonsense,  and  prove 
him  to  have  been  incapable  of  so  much  as  reading  an  old  ms., 
even  so  plain  a  one  as  Addl.  ms.  10.422.  Walter  included  it 
in  his  volume  (1817),  pp.  90-95.  But  a  curious  circumstance 
has  now  for  the  first  time  to  be -mentioned.  This  poem  proves 
to  be  none  other  than  '  The  Christian's  Manna,'  which  was  ori- 


OF  THE  BLESSED  SACRAMENT  OF  THE  AULTER.         181 

ginally  published  in  the  edition  of  1616,  and  repeated  in  that  of 
1620 ;  but  over  which  Editors  and  Bibliographers  alike  shook 
their  heads  doubtfully;  'Mister  Park'  (to  adopt  Ritson's  form) 
pronouncing  em^jhatically  against  it,  and  so  after-editors  and 
bibliogi-aphers  followed  blindly.  It  is  now  sufficiently  plain 
that  its  presence  in  the  Stonyhurst  ms.  (as  before  in  Addl.  ms. 
10.422)  establishes  its  authenticity  and  vindicates  the  integi-ity 
of  the  Douai  editors.  The  texts  of  1616  and  1620  present  some 
various  readings  that  I  have  adopted,  as  noted. 

Addl.  MS.  10.422  differs  from  our  ms.  only  orthogi-aphically, 
except  in  the  following :  st.  i.  line  2,  '  was'  dropped :  line  3, 
' glymes' (  =  gleams) for  'glymses;' inl616  and  1620  'glimpses,' 
which  gives  the  lacking  syllable,  and  on  which  cf .  St.  John  i.  9 : 
st.  iii.  line  5,  misreads  '  workes'  for  '  worke  :'  st.  v.  line  6,  mis- 
reads '  which'  for  '  much  :'  st.  vii.  line  1,  '  will'  for  '  witt :'  st. 
xii.  line  3,  di-ops  '  be'  before  '  tenn" — all  faithfully  continued  by 
TuRNBDLL,  and  in  the  last  '  even,'  ill  supplied  by  him.  St.  i. 
contains  reminiscences  of  Southwell's  favourite  hymn,  'Lauda 
Sion  Salvatorem'  (st.  iv.),  with  the  sequence  of  the  thoughts 
reversed.  On  another  Shakesperean  parallel  in  st.  vi.  see  our 
Memorial-Introduction.  In  st.  x.  line  2,  '  Nature's  work  .  .  .  .' 
=  the  wafer  of  the  host :  st.  xi.  line  6, '  angells'  gifts' =  His  gifts 
to  angels.  I  have  adopted  the  following  from  1616  and  1620  : 
St.  vii.  line  4,  'Here's'  for  'Here:'  st.  x.  line  2,  'And'  for  'A 
Nature's.'  I  record,  but  do  not  accept,  the  following :  st.  iii. 
line  6,  '  the'  for  '  His  :'  st.  iv.  line  1,  '  Here  true  beliefe  of  force 
inuiteth  love :'  st.  vi.  does  not  appear  in  either  edition  :  st.  x. 
line  1,  '  indued  :'  st.  xiii.  line  2,  'glasses':  lines  5-6, 

'  If  proofe  of  one  in  many,  Nature  forme, 
Why  may  not  God  much  more  perforine  the  same  ?' 

St.  XV.  lines  5-6, 

'  He  still  doth  this,  that  made  with  mighty  hand 
Of  water  wine,  a  suake  of  Moyses'  wand.'  G. 


LAMENTS  FOR  A  NOBLE  LADY. 

Clara  Ducum  soboles,  superis  nova  sedibus  liospes, 

Clausit  inoffenso  tramite  pura  diem  : 
Dotibus  ornavit,  superavit  moribus  ortiim, 

Omnibus  vma  prior,  parfuit  vna  sibi : 
Lux  genus  ingenio,  generi  lux  inclita  virtus, 

Virtutique  fuit  mens  generosa  decus. 
Mors  minuit,  properata  dies  orbamque  reliquit, 

Prolem  matre,  virum  conjuge,  flore  genus. 
Occidit,  ast  alium  tulit  hie  occasus  in  ortum, 

Vivit,  ad  occiduas  non  reditura  vices. 

Of  Howarde's  stemm  a  glorious  braunch  is  dead, 
Sweete  liglites  eclipsed  were  at  her  decease ; 

In  Buckhurst'  lyne,  she  gracious  yssue  spredd. 

She  heaven  with  two,  with  fower  did  Earth  encrease ; 

Fame,  honour,  grace,  gave  ayre  unto  her  breathe, 

Rest,  glory,  joyes,  were  sequelles  of  her  deathe. 

Death  aymd  too  highe,  he  hitt  too  choise  a  wighte, 
Eenownde  for  birth,  for  life,  for  lovely  partes  ; 

He  kilde  her  cares,  he  brought  her  worthes  to  light, 
He  rubd  our  eyes,  but  hath  enrichd  our  liartes  : 


LAMENTS  FOR  A  NOBLE  LADY.  183 

He  lett  out  of  the  arke  a  Noe's  dove, 
But  many  hartes  are  arkes  unto  lier  loue. 

Grace,  Nature,  Fortune,  did  in  liir  conspire 
To  shewe  a  proofe  of  their  united  skill : 

Slye  Fortune,  ever  false,  did  soone  retyre. 

But  double  grace  supplid  false  Fortune's  ill : 

And  though  she  wrought  not  to  her  Fortune's  pitch. 

In  Grace  and  nature  fewe  were  founde  so  ritche. 

Heaven  of  this  heavenly  perle  is  now  possest, 

Whose  lustre,  was  the  blaze  of  Honnor's  lighte  ; 

Whose  substance  pure,  of  every  good  the  best. 

Whose  price,  the  crowne  of  Vertue's  highest  right ; 

Whose  praise,  to  be  her  self;  whose  greatest  blisse. 

To  live,  to  love,  to  be  where  nowe  she  is. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

I  have  given  a  heading  to  these  two  poems,  which  appeared 
originally  at  close  of  Southwell's  prose  treatise  in  the  form  of 
'A  consolatorie  Epistle,'  entitled  '  The  Triumphs  ouer  Death.' 
Our  text  is  that  of  the  Stonyhurst  MS.,  which  is  superior  to  that 
of  1596. 

Latin,  line  7  in  1596  is  '  Mors  muta  at :'  line  9,  '  a  se  alium :' 
English,  in  Addl.  ms.  10.422,  st.  i.  line  2,  '  in'  for  '  at :'  st.  ii. 
line  5,  note  also  the  very  important  reading  of  '  Hee'  for  the 
nonsensical  '  Lot'  of  1596  hlindly  repeated  by  Turnbull  :  st. 
iii.  line  5,  'raught'  in  1596  =  ' wrought'  (see  relative  note  on  St. 
Peter's  Comj^laint,  st.  ciii.  line  2) :  '  her'  di-opped  out  by  Turn- 
bull  :  line  6,  '  nature,'  adopted  for  '  vertue :'  st.  iv.  line  4, '  Ver- 
tue's' dropped  in  1596,  and  ill-filled  by  Turnbull's  '  every.'  G. 


TO  THE  CHEISTIAN  READER  OF  '  SHORT 
RVLES  OF  GOOD  LIFE.'i 

If  Vertue  be  thy  guide, 

True  comfort  is  thy  path, 
And  thou  secure  from  erring  steps, 

That  leade  to  vengeance'  wrath. 

Not  widest  open  doore, 

Nor  spacious  wayes  she  goes ; 
To  straight  and  narrow  gate  and  way, 

She  cals,  she  leads,  she  shewes. 

She  cals,  the  fcAvest  come  : 

She  leades,  the  humble  sprited ; 
She  shews  them  rest  at  race's  end, 

Soule's  rest  to  heauen  inuited. 

'Tis  she  that  offers  most ; 

'Tis  she  that  most  refuse ; 
'Tis  she  preuents  the  broad-way  plagues, 

Which  most  do  wilfull  chuse  ; 

'  Our  text  of  this  and  three  followiug  is  that  of  1080.     One 
obvious  misprint,  '  dog'  for  '  do,'  in  st.  iv.  line  4,  is  corrected.  G. 


TO  THE  READER  OF  SHORT  RVLES  OP  GOOD  LIFE.      185 

Doe  choose  the  wide,  the  broad, 

The  left-hand  way  and  gate  : 
These  Vice  applauds,  these  Vertue  loaths 

And  teacheth  hers  to  hate. 

Her  waies  are  pleasant  waies, 

Vpon  the  right-hand  side  ; 
And  heauenly-happy  is  that  soule 

Takes  Vertue  for  her  guide. 


A  Preparatiue  TO  Prayer. 

When  thou  doest  talke  with  God,  by  prayer  I  meane,i 
Lift  vp  pure  hands,  lay  downe  all  Lust's  desires  : 

Fix  thoughts  on  heauen,  present  a  conscience  cleane  : 
Such  holy  balme,  to  mercie's  throne  aspires. 

Confesse  faults'  guilt,  craue  pardon  for  thy  sinne  ; 

Tread  holy  paths,  call  grace  to  guide  therein. 

'  TuRNBULL  grossly  misprints  '  clear'  for  '  cleane,'  notwith- 
standing the  rhyme  with  '  meane,'  line  3;  and  in  st.  iv.  line  2, 
'  servant'  for '  seruants.'  I  have  corrected  '  blame'  (st.  i.  line  4) 
by  '  balme,'  which  vindicates  itself.  St.  iii.  line  6,  '  converts,' 
verb  neut.  reflective=z: turns,  changes:  st.  iv.  Iine4,  'impeach' 
(Fr.  empt'cher)=hindrance,  the  literal  and,  in  that  day,  com- 
mon meaning:  line  6  seems  corrupted — qy.  'salvation's  hill 
on  Mercie's  wings'  ? 

I  am  not  sure  that  I  do  right  in  adhering  to  the  divisions 
and  separate  headings  of  1630  in  what  must  have  been  meant 
by  its  Author  to  be  one  poem  on  prayer.  In  reading  let  these 
separate  headings  be  ignored,  and  thereby  the  reader  will  be 

BB 


186      TO  THE  READER  OF  SHORT  RVLES  OF  GOOD  LIFE. 

It  is  the  spirit  with  reuerence  must  obey 

Our  Maker's  will,  to  practise  what  He  taught ; 

Make  not  the  flesh  thy  counsell  when  thou  pray  : 
'Tis  enemie  to  euery  vertuous  thought : 

It  is  the  foe  we  daily  feed  and  cloath  : 

It  is  the  prison  that  the  soule  doth  loath. 

Euen  as  Elias,  mounting  to  the  skie,  e'e?'- 

Did  cast  his  mantle  to  the  Earth  behind  : 

So,  when  the  heart  presents  the  prayer  on  high, 
Exclude  the  world  from  traflike  with  the  mind. 

Lips  neere  to  God,  and  ranging  heart  within. 

Is  but  vaine  babbling  and  conuerts  to  sinne. 

Like  Abraham,  ascending  vp  the  hill 

To  sacrifice  ;  his  seruants  left  below. 
That  he  might  act  the  great  Commander's  will, 

Without  impeach  to  his  obedient  blow  ; 
Euen  so  the  soule,  remote  from  earthly  things ; 
Should  mount  saluation's  shelter,  Mercie's  wings. 


relieved  of  the  misconception  which  otherwise  is  inevitable  as 
to  'Oh,fortresseofthefaithfull,'  &c.  (Ensamples,  st.ii.  line  1). 
At  present  no  one,  till  he  reails  farther  and  reconsiders,  can 
avoid  taking  it  as  an  epithet  of  what  is  now  the  opening  of 
the  poem  and  the  subject  of  the  first  stanza,  namely,  our  Sa- 
viour. G. 


TO  THE  READER  OF  SHORT  RVLES  OF  GOOD  LIFE,      187 


The  Effects  of  Prayer. 

The  suiine  by  prayer  did  cease  his  course,  and  staid  ; 

The  hungrie  lions  fawnd  vpon  their  prey ; 
A  walled  passage  tlirough  the  sea  it  made ; 

From  foiious  fire  it  banisht  heat  away ; 
It  shut  the  heauens  three  yeares  from  giuing  raine, 
It  opened  heauens,  and  clouds  powrd  downe  againe. 


Ensamples  of  OUR  Saviour. 

OvR  Sauiour,  (patterne  of  true  holinesse,) 

Continuall  praid,  vs  by  ensample  teaching, — 

When  He  was  baptized  in  the  wildernesse, 
In  worldng  miracles  and  in  His  preaching  ; 

Vpon  the  mount,  in  garden-groues  of  death. 

At  His  Last  Supper,  at  His  parting  breath. 

Oh  !  fortresse  of  the  faithfull,  sure  defence. 

In  which  doth  Christians'  cognizance  consist ; 

Their  victorie,  their  triumph  comes  from  thence, 
So  forcible,  hell-gates  cannot  resist : 

A  thing  whereby  both  angels,  clouds  and  starres, 

At  man's  request  fight  God's  reuengefull  warres. 

I^othing  more  gratefull  in  the  Highest  eyes, 
Nothing  more  firme  in  danger  to  protect  us. 


188      TO  THE  READER  OF  SHORT  RVLES  OF  CxOOD  LIFE. 

Nothing  more  forcible  to  pierce  the  skies, 

And  not  depart  till  Mercy  doe  respect  vs  : 
And,  as  the  soule  life  to  the  body  giues, 
So  prayer  reuiues  the  soule,  by  prayer  it  Hues. 

NOTES. 

St.  ii.  line  1,  '  fovtresse'=  prayer  :  st.  iii.  liue  4,  'respect' 
=to  look  back  upon  or  again,  hold  in  view,  look  upon  consider- 
ately. 

Part  of  one  of  these  (the  Preparation  to  Prayer)  was  pre- 
fixed to  Bp.  Cosis's  Hora:  but  with  some  variations  (pp.  16-18, 
Oxford  reprint).  Some  of  the  Prayers  in  that  book  are  taken 
from  Southwell  (which  rathe)'  modifies  what  is  said  in  the  Ox- 
ford Preface  from  Evelyn,  p.  xii.) :  for  example,  on  pp.  68-72, 
which  is  altered  from  one  in  Southwell's  Rules  of  Good  Life 
(latter  part  of  sheet  y,  ed.  1630).  G. 


POEMATA  LATIN  A. 

FROM  THE  MSS.  OP  THE  AUTHOR. 

Never  before  printed. 


NOTE. 


The  whole  of  the  following  hitherto  unprinted  Latin  Poems 
by  Southwell  are  from  his  own  mss.  now  preserved  in  Stony- 
HUKST  College,  near  Blackburn.  They  are  wi-itten  in  fasci- 
culi distinct  from  the  English  Poems'  ms.  (on  which  see  our 
Preface). 

The  first  two  pieces  explain  themselves— and  for  remarks 
on  them  and  the  others,  i-eference  may  be  made  to  our  Me- 
morial-Introduction ;  but  it  may  be  well  to  note  here,  that  the 
first  of  the  Fragment  of  a  Series  of  Elegies  seems  to  relate 
to  some  disaster  to  the  Spanish  arms,  probably  the  Armada 
collapse  of  1588 ;  that  '  Elegia  VIII.'  is  the  lament  of  a  husband 
for  the  death  of  his  wife,  in  which  there  is  a  conceit  running 
throughout,  founded  upon  the  idea  of  the  one  being  '  alter  ego' 
of  the  other;  and  that  'Elegia  IX.'  is  historically  interesting 
as  being  put  into  the  '  fail-  lips'  of  the  '  Shade'  of  Mary,  Queen 
of  Scots,  and  so  a  fitting  companion  to  his  English  poem, 
'  Decease,  Release.  Dum  morior,  orior.'  The  shorter  sacred 
poems  are  elucidated  by  their  headings. 

Even  with  the  anxious  assistance  of  the  Rev.  S.  Sole  of  St. 
Mary's  College,  Oscott,  Birmingham,  and  the  cooperation  of  the 
Rev.  Joseph  Stevenson  of  the  same  College — to  the  latter  of 
whom  the  whole  of  the  Southwell  mss.  of  Stonyhurst  had 
been  sent  for  calendaring  in  the  Report  of  the  Government  Com- 
mission on  (private)  Historical  mss.  — I  cannot  hope  to  have 
furnished  an  immaculate  text.  But  no  pains  have  been  spared  to 
make  out  the  small  and  difiicult  handwriting,  and  it  is  believed 
few  or  no  important  errors  will  be  found.  Some  words  have 
been  conformed  to  classical  usage  in  the  orthogi-aphy.  G. 


POEMA  DE  ASSUMPTIONE  B.V.M. 

Cum  ccelum  et  tellus  et  vasti  macliina  miindi,  i 

Ponderibus  librata  suis,  basis  inscia,  firmas 

Sortita  est  sedes,  et  legibus  omnia  certis 

In  propriis  digesta  locis  jam  fixa  manerent, 

Extremum  Deus  urget  opus,  priniosque  parentes  5 

Cunctarum  format  veluti  compendia  rerum. 

Hos  orbis  statuit  dominos,  atque  omnibus  ornans 

Deliciis,  sacra  paradisi  in  sede  locavit. 

Hie  locus  a  primo  mundi  memorabilis  ortu, 

Consitus  arboribus,  leni  quas  aura  susurro  10 

Murmureque  interflat  molli,  labensque  per  herbas 

Dulcisonos  ciet  iinda  modos,  paribiisque  recurrens 

Flexibus,  in  varios  per  gramina  finditur  arcus. 

Hie  vagus  incerto  discurrens  tramite  piscis 

Plurimus  ignoti  generis,  dum  lusibus  instat  1 5 

Decipit,  et  placide  fallendo  lumina  mulcet. 

Per  ripas  diffusa  patet  cum  floribus  herba, 

Luxuriansque  viget  vario  Iretissima  partu, 

Quem  sponte  effudit  curvo  sine  vomere  tellus. 

Hie  rosa  cum  violis,  cum  calthis  lilia  certant ;  20 

Hie  casia^  narcissus  adest,  hyacinthus  acantho  ; 


192  POEMA  DE  ASSUMPTIONE  13.V.M. 

Hie  crocus  et  mixtis  crescunt  vaccinia  bacis. 
Quis  dulces  avium  modulos,  genus  omne  ferarum 
Quis  memoret,  quis  cuncta  loci  miracula  narret  ? 
Quicquid  in  itnmenso  pulcliri  diifunditur  orbe,  25 

Et  sparsum  solumque  alias  aliasque  per  oras 
Cernitur,  hoc  uno  totum  concluditur  horto. 

Hjec  sedes  antiqua  fuit,  quam  Lucifer  Ada; 
Invidit,  tetrumque  Erebi  detrusus  in  antrum 
Et  cjelo  extorris,  diro  molimine  fraudes  30 

Intulit,  et  tectis  veri  sub  imagine  verbis 
Lethiferum  suasit  morsum,  ca^loque  rebelles 
Reddidit,  et  victis  Stygia-  cervicibus  Aulse 
Imposuit  servile  jugum,  placidisque  fugatos 
Sedibus,  exilio  gravibusque  doloribus  anxit.  35 

Hie  primum  sua  signa  ferox  victricia  Pluto 
Extulit,  hie  ultrix  morbi  mortisque  potestas 
Coepit,  et  humanum  genus  in  sua  jura  vocavit. 

Mox  variis  grassata  modis  mors  tempore  vires 
CoUigit,  et  cunctos  nullo  discrimine  mactans  40 

Imperat,  et  toto  late  dominatur  in  orbe. 
Non  minus  beroas,  proceres,  mundique  dynastas 
Sceptrigerumque  genus,  quam  vili  stirpe  creatos 
Abripit,  atque  omnes  vineens  invicta  triumphat ; 
Donee  virgo,  suae  vindex  generosa  parentis,  45 

Se  rabido  victrix  objecit  prima  furori 
Mortis,  et  imperii  sa3vas  eonvellere  leges 
Orsa,  satellitium  mortis  superavit,  et  ipsi 
Terrorem  incussit  dominie,  quod  corporis  a^qua 


POEMA  DB  ASSUMPTIONE  B.V.M.  193 

Temperies,  vegetique  artus,  et  vivida  virtus  50 

Lethiferis  adituni  prtecluderet  Integra  morbis. 

Mors  mirata  suos  contra  lianc  nil  posse  ministros, 
Provectamque  niliQ  solitis  concedere  telis, 
Extremam  imperio  timet  impendere  ruinam. 
Principiis  igitur  cupiens  obsistere,  totas  55 

Intendit  vires,  atque  omnia  mente  volutans, 
Tartarei  cogit  proceres,  monstra  impia,  regni. 

Est  vastum  scabris  sinuosum  anfractibus  antrum, 
Solis  inaccessum  radiis,  fundoque  dehiscens, 
Et  ruptas  reserans  inimani  borrore  cavernas.  60 

Propatulo  hie  fluvius  surgit  Letba^us  biatu, 
Ingentique  mens  per  concava  saxa  fragore, 
Prsecipitante  rotat  limosa  volumina  cursu, 
Et  dirum  aggeribus  spunians  freuiit  unda  repertis, 
Hinc  atque  bine  atrata  patent  fuligine  tecta,       .        65 
Et  loca  senta  situ,  varies  spirantia  morbos, 
iEternum  spissae  squalent  caligine  mortis. 
In  medio  solium,  nulla  spectabile  pom  pa, 
Informi  obductum  limo,  sanieque  perunctum, 
Eminet,  exesis  diuturna  a^rugine  fulcris.  70 

Hie  annosa  sedet  canis  mors  horrida  saitis, 
Os  macie,  taboque  genas  confecta,  cavisque 
Immersos  fossis  oculos  et  livida  ciiTum 
Dentes  labra  gerens  turpique  patentia  rictu. 
Htec  jubet :  et  raucis  prasco  clamoribus  aiu'as  75 

Personat,  et  medio  manes  compellat  ab  antro. 

Excita  turba  ruit  c?ecas  furibunda  per  umbras, 

cc 


194  POEMA  DE  ASSUMPTIONE  B.V.M. 

Insolitos  mirata  sonos,  atque  ocius  una 

Conglonierata  capit  certas  ex  orcline  sedes. 

Fatales  primum  pariter  sedere  sorores,  80 

Quai  levibus  vitse  deducunt  stamina  fusis.^ 

Decrepita  has  sequitur  baculoque  innixa  senectus, 

Incultas  diffusa  comas,  et  membra  caducis 

Vix  pedibus  moribunda  regens.   Turn  languida  febris, 

Et  tussis,  pituita,  hydrops,  et  hirida  pestis,  85 

Phrenesis,  cancer,  porrigo,  tormina,  spasmus, 

Et  genus  id,  numerosa  manus ;  quibus  undique  septa 

Mors  spirans  iiumane,  oculis  jaculantibus  ignes, 

Atque  olidum  truncis  fumum  de  naribus  efflans, 

Terribiles  ructat  fremitus  ;  dein  talia  fatur.  90 

Atra  cohors,  nostris  semjDer  fidissima  sceptris, 
Olim  quanta  fuit  Lethei  gloria  regni 
Qua  Phoebus,  qua  luna  suos  agit  aurea  currus, 
Quas  bello  edidimus  strages,  quot  funere  reges 
Mersimus,  et  totum  quoties  consumpsimus  orbem       95 
Non  latet,  et  vestris  cecidit  pars  maxima  telis. 
Vos  etenim  spissos  animarum  ad  Tartara  nimbos 
Prtecipites  egisse  subit,  jjlenisque  voracem 
Exsatiasse  hominum  functorum  messibus  Orcum. 
Numquid  tanta  ruet  virtus  ingioria,  et  uni  roo 

Jfoster  cedet  honos  1    Sic  formidabile  numen 
Imperiumque  ruet,  sic  nostris  hostia  templis 
Deficiet,  tantique  cadent  fastigia  regni  1 
Est  mulier,  mulier  nostris  contraria  fatis, 
'  In  margin  '  vel  mensurant.'  G. 


POEM  A  DE  ASSUMPTION  E  B.V.M.  195 

Omni  labe  carens,  iiuUiTeque  obnoxia  culpai :  105 

Illius  hti3C  genetrix  Christi  est,  qui  immanibus  ausis 

Tartareos  subiit  fines,  et  victor  opimis 

Ditatus  spoliis,  superas  evasit  ad  auras, 

Et  raptam  aethereis  praedam  celer  intulit  astris. 

Queni  timeo,  nostrse  ne  forte  injurius  aula3  no 

Antiquas  violet  leges,  matremque  (quod  absit) 

Viribus  eripiat  nostris,  animosque  ministret, 

Ut  prpedas  actura  istis  sine  sole  cavernis 

Succedat,  manesque  suis  exturbet  ab  antris. 

Nee  timor  hie  ratione  caret,  nam  vidimus  ilium       1 1 5 

Qui  velut  lieec  sine  labe  fait,  victricibus  armis 

Tartareos  superasse  deos.     Pro  dicite,  cives. 

Quid  sit  opis,  quid  consilii,  qua  hoc  arte  queamus 

Propulsare  malum.    Vos  ista  pericula  tangunt. 

Cernitis  ut  nullos  admittat  corpore  morbos,  120 

Et  vestras  ludat  vires  1     Proh  sola  revellet 

Jura  per  innumeros  annorum  fixa  recursus 

Eemina  1     Sic  omnes  coepto  desistere  victos 

Post  tot  ssecla  decet  1   Scelus  est . . .  Hie  plura  volentem 

Dicere,  non  patitur  rabies,  et  marcida  circuni  125 

Fauces  spuma  fluens,  imis  quam  saeva  medullis 

Ira  furorque  ciet.     Veluti  cum  verbere  tactus 

Stat  sonipes,  pressisque  furens  detentus  habenis, 

Frena  ferox  pleno  spumantia  mergit  in  ore. 

Mox  varias  edit  confuso  murmure  voces  130 

Circumposta  cohors,  strcpitu  reboante  per  auras ; 

Qualis  ad  excussos  sequitur  de  nubibus  ignes. 


196  rOEMA  DE  ASSUMPTIONE  B.V.M, 

Subjectis  ardent  irarum  pectora  taedis, 

Atqiie  odiis  fervent  aninii,  crudusque  per  artus 

Livor  et  ossa  ruit;  caeciis  rapit  impetus  omnes.         135 

Arma  fremunt,  saevit  belli  scelerata  cupido, 

Certatinique  feras  sese  exhortantur  in  iras, 

Et  patrias  jurant  tutari  sanguine  sedes. 

Non  secus  ac  subitis  populus  temerarius  ausis, 

Audito  belli  sonitu,  furit  undique  prseceps,  1 40 

Atque  omni  sine  lege  ruit,  nil  mente  retractans 

Quid  fieri  expediat,  sed  quid  novus  ingerat  ardor, 

Verum  ita  concussos  animis  grandieva  senectus, 
Longe  aliud  secum  meditans,  sic  ore  nioratur  : 

Siste  gradum,  generosa  coliors,  baud  irrita  f orsan  1 4  5 
Verba  loquar,  nostris  aures  advortite  dictis. 
Nobilis  ut  video  vobis  vigor  insidet,  altum 
Mens  agitat  bellum,  claris  crebrescere  factis 
Fert  animus,  juvat  et  superis  indicere  divis 
Proelia;  nos  etiam  votis  si  cetera  nostris  150 

Congruerent,  avidi  tantos  ambimus  honores. 
Sed  frustra  hoc  temptamus  opus.    Quibus  sethera  telis 
Pervia  censetis  1-  qufe  non  molimina  vincet 
Qui  potis  est  totum  delere  et  condere  mundum  1 
Jampridem  sensere  immanes  mole  gigantes  155 

In  superos  quid  bella  queant.     Et  Lucifer  ille, 
Orbe  sub  empireo  rutilanti  in  sede  refulgens, 
Cum  sibi  divinos  temere^  poscebat  bonores, 

1  '  Temen"'  is  an  oversight,  but  we  must  leave  it,  as  with 
'  uisi,"  &c.  G. 


POEMA  DE  ASSUMPTIONE  B.V.M.  107 

Haud  potuit  retinere  suos,  sed,  pulsus  iu  imas 

Terrarum  latebras,  poenas  exsolvit  acerbas.  i6o 

His  pra3stat  didicisse  malis,  quam  vana  furentes 

In  caelum  temptare  nefas,  et  cedere  victos. 

Consilium  rursus  capitote,  expendite  causas, 

In  melius  mutasse  animos  prudentia  summa  est. 

Si  mea  canities,  mea  si  sententia  pondus  165 

Momentumque  habeat,  belloruiu  insana  cupido 

Cesset,  et  in  summi  referamus  verba  Tonantis 

Judicium,  qui  nee  Stygiis  injurius  unquam 

Sedibus  esse  potest,  cujusque  in  numine  lis  est. 

Hffic  ubi  dicta  dedit,  torpent  in  proilia  vires,      1 70 
Infractique  cadunt  animi,  mentesque  coacta 
Pax  tenet,  et  junctis  rata  fit  sententia  votis. 

ISTuntius  extemplo  liquidas  subMmis  in  auras 
Tollitur,  et  facili  tranans  per  inane  volatu 
Arduus  insurgit,  Letbajique  acta  Senatus  175 

Exponens  superis,  avidus  responsa  requirit. 

Tunc  Deus,  ostentans  a?quato  examine  lances, 
Esto,  ait,  a3quus  ero,  causa  exagitetur  utrinque  : 
Cui  ratio,  cui  jura  favent,  victoria  cedat. 

Mox  partes  actura  suas  mors  ferrea  pra3sto  est,    180 
Et  Scevum  frendens  rabido  sic  intonat  ore  : 
0  rerum  qui  summa  tenes,  quid  jura  revellis, 
Et  male  nil  meritam  dubiis  terroribus  angis  ? 
Quid  merui,  quid  commisi,  qure  crimina  tandem 
Sic  multanda  vides,  nostris  ut  legibus  istam  185 

Eripias,  et  prisca  ruat  labefacta  potestas  1 


198  POEMA  DE  ASSUMPTIONE  B.V.M. 

Mortalis  nata  est,  et  carnis  credita  moles 
Communem  redolet  massam ;  caro  terrea  terrae 
Eeddatur,  maneat^  simili  sub  pulvere  pulvis. 
Adamo  ex  patre  est,  cujus  cum  cetera  proles  1 90 

Illius  oL  culpam  parcis  obnoxia  sumat 
Corpora,  cur  mortem  hsec  et  ineluctabile  fatum 
Effugiat,  cur  funereas  transire  per  umbras 
Abnuat,  et  victrix  reliquis  magis  una  triumphet  1 

Hsec  ait,  at  Gabriel  causam  contrarius  u.rget        195 
Virginis,  adversoque  potens  sermone  tuetur. 
l^osti,  ait,  alme  Pater,  quos  mors  tellure  repostos 
In  sua  jura  rapit,  primi  contracta  parentis 
Aspergit  maculosa  lues ;  et  cedere  fatis 
Culpae  poena  fuit.     Sed  virgo  lisec,  criminis  exors,    200 
Cur  luat  immeritas  omnino  innoxia  pamas  1 
Id  Christi  genetricis  erat  sponsa^que  tonantis, 
Ut  pura  infectos  transiret  sola  per  artus, 
Communique  carens  culpa,  mala  debita  culpse 
Haud  ferret.     Nullis  Deus  est  nisi  sontibus  ultor.   205 

His  ita  respondet  solio  Deus  orsus  ab  alto  : 
Judicium  hoc  esto.     Venerandte  virginis  almus 
Spiritus  astra  petat,  sanoque  e  corpore  migret 
Non  mortis  sed  amoris  ope,  et  violenta  doloris 
Vis  nulla  impediat,  sit  summa  exire  voluptas.  210 

Tunc  mors  dira  fremit,  lapsumque  in  viscera  torquet 
Invidite  furiale  malum,  disrumpitur  ira 

'  Above  '  maneat'  is  written  '  recleat ;'  but  as  '  maneat'  is 
not  erased,  we  retain  it.  G. 


FILII  PRODIGI  AD  PATREM  EPISTOLA.  199 

Morborum  infelix  acies,  et  inutile  frendens 
Vipeream  expirat  rabiem.     Deinum  acrius  instat 
Ut  saltern  extinctuin  liceat  dissolvere  corpus.  2 1 5 

Ast  superi  contra  insurgunt,  et  nescia  labis 
Cailo  membra  petunt,  animae  decora  alta  beats). 

Annuit  Omnipotens.    Divum  sonat  aula  triumphis. 
Virgo  poli  regina  sedet,  mors  victa  fugatur.  2 1 9 


FILII  PRODIGI  PORCOS  PASCENTIS  AD 
,  PATREM  EPISTOLA. 

Si  tarn  longinquis  rogites  quis  scripsit  ab  oris, 

Vel  ferat  unde  rudes  sordida  cbarta  notas, 
Inspice,  suffusis  quamvis  maculosa  lituris 

Littera  scriptoris  nomen  et  omen  babet. 
Continet  ilia  meos  plenos  formidine  casus,i  5 

lUa  dabit  nati  facta  scelesta  tui ; 
Et  licet  ingrato  sordent  elementa  colore, 

Sunt  tamen  hajc  domino  candidiora  suo. 
Quippe,  quod  emerui,  lutulentis^  versor  in  antris, 

Mlque  nisi  obscenum  lumina  nostra  vident.         i  o 
Non  mihi  divitise,  non  fulvi  copia  nummi, 

Prtestitit  ut  quondam,  nunc  quoque  prrestat  opem. 

'  In  margiu,  as  au  apparent  alternative  line  for  this  :  '  Ilia 
meum  referet  ter  lamentabile  fatum.'  G. 
*  Mis-written  '  lutosis.'  G. 


200  FILII  PRODIGI  AD  PATREM  EPISTOLA. 

Hand  inopem  fallax  comitatur  vulgiis  ut  olim, 

Nee,  qualis  fuerat,  jam  famulatus  adest. 
Ornatte  desimt  radianti  murice  vestes,  15 

!N"ec  phaleris  tecti  subjiciuiitur  equi ; 
Omnia  nimboso  fluxere  simillima  vento, 

Nee  facies  rebus,  quaj  fuit  ante,  manet. 
Hei  volvit  fortuna  rotam,  ventisque  solutis 

Disrupit  nostram  perniciosa  ratem.  20 

Aurea  deperiit,  nunc  ferrea  prodiit  eetas; 

Sunt  l93ta  in  tristes  tempora  versa  dies. 
Qua^que  prius  ventis  pergebant  vela  secundis, 

Et  pontum  ut  faciles  edomuere  lacus. 
Acta  ruunt  inter  Scyllas  interque  Cbarybdes  25 

Et  fracta  adversis  dilacerantur  aquis. 
Heu  parva  infandum  liquerunt  gaudia  luctum  ! 

Heu  ruptuni  liquit  vipera  parta  latus  ! 
Jam  placidte  periere  dies,  tristesque  secutte  ; 

Ultima  la^titise  prima  doloris  erat.  30 

Sors  ea  dura  quidem,  sed  nostris  debita  factis, 

Immo  est  errato  lenior  ira  meo. 
Cum  miser  ignotas  veni  peregrinus  in  oras, 

Pronus  in  interitum,  pro  dolor  !  ipse  meum, 
Totus  in  insanos  effudi  tempora  luxus,  35 

Tempora  vulneribus  jam  redimenda  meis. 
Seque  mihi  juveni  juvenes  junxere  sodales, 

Et  ruitura  simul  plurima  turba  fuit. 
Kaptus  in  exitium,  sociis  agitantibus,  ivi ; 

Aut  comes  aut  princeps  ad  scelus  omne  fui,  40 


FILII  PRODIGI  AD  PxVTREM  EPISTOLA.  201 

Utque  pudor  faciem,  pietas  sic  pectora  liquit. 

Calluit  a  multis  mens  hebetata  malis, 
Nee  mihi  cura  Dei,  proprite  nee  cura  saliitis, 

Sola  videbatur  ca^ca  libido  salus. 
Sic  ego  tartareis  merces  certissima  monstris,  45 

Tartareos  retuli  jam  nova  dira  canes ; 
'Non  furiis  actus  furiosa  videbar  Erinys, 

Nee  mihi  sub  stygiis  par  fuit  ullus  aquis. 
Hsec  mea  vita  fuit,  si  possit  vita  vocari 

Quae  tulit  ad  mortis  perniciosa  fores.  50 

Hoc  mea  lustravit  nimium  vaga  carbasus  fequor, 

Alta  quoad  plenam  sustulit  unda  ratem  •} 
Sed  modo  saxosi  portus  anfractibus  hajrens, 

Corruit  ablatis  naufraga  puppis  aquis. 
Jamque  luo  poenas,  turpi  s  fero  prasmia  vitse ;  55 

Obruor  innumeris  exul  egensque  malis. 
All !  lacer  ex  liumeris  algenti  pendet  amictus, 

Cetera  marmoreo  frigore  membra  rigent, 
Et  male  contecti  madefiunt  imbribus  artus ; 

Quin  lacerant  nudani  verbera  sa^pe  cutim.  60 

Contiiiuis  lassa^  callent  grunnitibus  aures, 
'  Lseta  est  in  tales  musica  versa  sonos  : 
Sunt  etenim  porci  mensaj,  lectique  sodales, 

Unus  eis  cibus  est,  unus  et  ille  mihi. 
Horridus  inculto  pendet  de  fronte  capillus,  65 

Nee  caput  a  ventis  quod  tueatur  adest. 

"  There  is  little  doubt  South\\'ell  meant  '  quoad'  and  '  eis' 
(Hue  0-i)  foi'  diBsyllables.  G. 


202  FILII  PRODIGI  AD  PATREM  EPISTOLA. 

Dum  facies  liquida  pallens  respondet  ab  unda, 

Qua^  quondam  a  speculo  reddita  stepe  fnit, 
Dissiniiles  surgunt  antiqua  ab  imagine  vultus, 

JSTec  species  eadem,  quoe  fait  ante,  manet ;  70 

Quippe  novas  macies  induxit  in  era  figuras. 

Vix  cutis,  exesis  carnibus,  ossa  tegit  j 
Squalida  languentes  febris  depascifcur  artus, 

Imaque  pervasit  tabidus  ossa  dolor, 
Nee  mihi  curandis  dantur  medicamina  morbis,  7  5 

Tu  nisi  succurras,  non  feret  alter  opem. 
Hei !  tua  sum,  genitor,  tua  sum,  licet  impia  proles, 

Ni  mala  quse  fuerit,  desinat  esse  tua. 
Te  genitore  fui  proles,  non  impia  proles, 

Impia,  me  misero,  me  genitore,  fui.  80 

Aspice  tu  prolem,  proles  dedit  impia  pcenas 

Atque  tulit  meritis  prremia  digna  suis ; 
Inque  dies  funesta  magis  tormenta  supersunt, 

Et  mala  prseteritis  deteriora  malis  ; 
Mille  animum  curce,  corpus  mala  mille  fatigant,         85 

Intus  nulla  datur,  nee  foris^  uUa  quies. 
0  quam  difficiles  portendunt  omnia  casus, 

Tu  nisi  mature  tristia  fata  leves. 
Hei  citus  affer  opem,  dextramque  extende  cadenti, 

Quce  data  vita  mihi,  morsque  negata  foret.  90 

'  '  Foris'  is  here  an  adverb  = '  out  of  doors.'  But  in  classi- 
cal Latin  the  '  /*'  is  always  and  necessarily  long;  and  so  here 
again  is  a  false  quantity.  G. 


FILII  PRODIGT  AD  PATREM  EPISTOLA.  203 

0  pater,  0  nati  spes  summa  et  sola  salutis, 

Sis  pater  et  nati  sit  tibi  cura  tui. 
En  scelus  agnoscit,  lacrimis  commissa  fatetur, 

Parcere  peccanti  munus  amoris  erit : 
Peccavi,  fateor,  sceleris  mens  conscia  luget,  95 

Erroresque  luunt  singula  membra  suos ; 
Scilicet  et  veniam  sceleris  mens  conscia  poscit,^ 

Nee  nisi  peccanti  parcere  posset  amor. 
Parcat  amor,  vincat  pietas,  ira^que  facessant, 

Plus  tua  te  virtus,  quam  mea  facta  regant.  1 00 

ISTec  quia  me  cernis  factum  de  j)role  rebellem, 

Tu  fieri  judex  ex  genitore  velis. 
Quamvis  si  fieres,  nunquam  te  judice  tantis 

Esset,  credo  equidem,  subdita  vita  malis. 
Cur  tua  deserui  redamati  limina  tecti !  105 

Cur  mea  subtraxi  lumina  maesta  tuis  ! 
Sic  visum  est  superis,  ha3C  me  fortuna  manebat,^ 

Hpec  mihi,  dura  licet,  poena  ferenda  fuit. 
Ah,  Deus,  ecce  tuli,  sajvos  jam  comprime  fluctus, 

Et  petat  optatos  lassa  carina  sinus.  1 1  o 

Per  mare,  per  scopulos,  per  mille  agitata  Charybdes, 

Mitius  ah  tandem,  te  duce,  pergat  iter. 

•  Line  97  is  written  in  four  ways  in  the  ms.,  somewhat  con- 
fusedly: 1.  As  above.  2.  ScUicet  et  venia3  segetem  mea  facta 
ministrant.  3.  Materiam  veniae  mea  sors  miseranda  ministrat. 
4.  Non  quffirit  veniam  qui  nil  commisit  iniqui.  G. 

2  This  Une  is  thus  written  on  the  margin:  ScUicet  hos 
superis  placuit  me  volvere  casus.  G. 


204  FILII  PRODIGI  AD  PATREM  EPISTOLA. 

0  mihi  si  patrios  liceat  revidere  penates, 

0  mihi  si  felix  luceat  ille  dies, 
Ante  ruet  coelum  tendetque  ad  sidera  tellus  1 1 5 

Et  mare  siccatis  fluctibus  ignis  erit, 
Quam  qu?eram  ignotas  iterum  novus  advena  terras, 

Quamvis  quaerenti  regia  seeptra  dares. 
Patria  !  dulce  solum  !  quod  si  mihi  visere  detur, 

ISTec  me  divelli  mortuus  inde  sinam ;  120 

Condicio  melior  patriis  in  sedibus  Iri  est, 

Quam  Croesi  magnas  exulis  inter  opes. 
Ergo  cara  tui  pateant  mihi  limina  tecti, 

Et  videam  notos  post  fera  fata  lares. 
Sin  minus,  externis  moriar  peregrinus  in  oris,  125 

Nee  tumuli  ritum  qui  mihi  prsestet  erit, 
Sed  sine  funeribus  nullo  curante  relinquar, 

Et  miseranda  feris  prteda  cadaver  erit. 
O  si  forte  brevi  tales  tibi  littera  casus 

Adferat,  et  nati  talia  fata  tui,  130 

Qute  sibi  mens,  quis  sensus  erit,  cum,  te  orta  parente, 

Audieris  rabidas  membra  vorasse  feras  1 
Tunc  fortasse  gemens  sobolis  vel  busta  requires, 

Quam  poteras  vivam  nunc  habuisse  domi. 
Tunc,  si  me  renuas,  memorans  renuisse  dolebis,        1 3  5 

Atque  tuo  duplex  imber  ab  ore  fluet. 
Obvia  s£epe  animo  defuncti  occurret  imago, 

Junctaque  cum  lacrimis  plurima  verba  dabis, 
Ast  aderit  nuUus  nisi  tristes  fletibus  umbrai 

Et  rapiet  gemitus  ventus  et  aura  tuos.  140 


}l 


FILII  PRODIGI  AD  PATREM  EPISTOLA.  205 

Tunc  dolor  invadet  (|uem  non  invaserat  olim, 

Quique  sepultus  erat,  vidnere  siu'get^  amor. 
Ille  quidem  surget,  sed  nostros  serus  in  usus, 

Cum  nulla  optate  spes  opis  esse  potest. 
Nunc  igitur,2  0  nunc,  dum  spes  manet  ulla  salutis,  145 

Succurre,  et  tantis  obvius  ito  mails. 
Quodque  mihi,  0  genitor,  solus  concedere  posses, 

Accipe  supremum  prolis  ab  ore  vale. 

*  Above  '  surget'  is  wi-itten  '  vivet.'  G. 

2  The  '  ur'  of  '  igitiir'  is  here  made  long.  By  transposing 
the  second  '  nunc'  and  '  0,"  and  reading  '  Nunc  igitur,  nunc  O 
dum,'  &c.  the  false  quantity  would  be  avoided,  whether  the  au- 
thor's or  not.  G. 


FRAGMENT  OF  A  SERIES  OF  ELEGIES. 

There  appear  to  be  a  part  of  No.  7,  the  whole  of  No.  8,  and 
a  part  of  No.  9.     These  follow  in  the  order  of  the  ms.  G. 


Ex  luctii  populus,  redditur  ipse  chalybs, 
Conclamant  Celte  celsos  periisse  Monarchas, 

Nee  conclamato  fuiiere  liber  Iber. 
Ferales  Nebrissa  rotat  mutata  cupressos; 

Nulla  premit  lauruni  pra^fica,  laurus  abi.  5 

(^)uin  formidatos  armat  Carteia  nepotes, 

Tarn  ssevse  cupiens  arma  movere  neci. 
Cantaber  et  Vasco  demptum  sibi  plorat  lionorem ; 

Nunc  onus  est  illis  quilibet  alter  lionos, 
Hunc  fati  lusuni  flet  Lusitanus  et  iuquit,  1  o 

Quse  mors  dicenda  est,  si  jocus  iUe  fuit  1 
Bisseni/  clamant,  '  bisseni'  cedite  menses  : 

Omnis  in  hoc  obitu  scilicet  annus  obit. 
Ecce  jacet  fusis  gens  Castellana  maniplis, 

Hoc  tumulo  vires  perdidit,  atque  vires.  15 

Ex  merito  Latium  nomen  sortire  latendi ; 

Hac  terra,  Latii  condita  terra,  lates  ! 

'  Query,  the  Spaniards ;  so  named  from  some  province  of 
Spain?  Biscay  (?);  and  qy.  read  Biscani  ?  G. 


FRAGMENT  OF  A  SERTES  OF  ELEGIES.  207 


Quid  quod  et  Eoi  pariter,  gens  altera  mundi, 

Sensit  de  ca^lo  lumina  rapta  sue  ! 
Quid  quod  et  ^thiopes  membris  nigrantibus  horrent !  2  o 

A  luctu  credo  provenit  ille  color. 
Heu,  dicunt,  periisse  Peru  !  mens  naufraga  currit. 

Quo  ferar  1  ah  periit  qui  niodo  portus  erat. 
India  tota  gemit  passis  diffusa  capillis  : 

Ortus  in  occasum  Margaris  omnis  abit.  25 

Hei  mihi !  cur  lacrimas  alio  peto  sole  tepentes  1 

Ut  doleam  tellus  nenipe  petenda  nova  est. 
Quid  faciam  1  vidi  lugentes  fluminis  iindas ; 

Et  vidi  lacrimas,  utraque  terra,  tuas. 
Perge,  anime,  in  fietum,  tepuerunt  marmora  fletu,      30 

Ergone  marmoribus  tu  mage  durus  eris  ? 
Ingemuit  pontus,  gemuit  quoque  terra  dolore, 

Et  ponto  et  terra  tu  mage  s^vus  eris  ? 
Ah  doleo  !  testes  superi !  mea  Margaris,  eheu  ! 

Margaris,  heu  !  luctus  hscc  quoque  testis  erit.       35 
ISTon  doleam  1  mea  vita  fugit,  mea  Margareta  ! 

Hoc  solo  steterat  nomine  vita  mihi. 
N'on  doleam?  sensus  aninia3que  evanuit  ardor  ! 

Quis  poterit  vita3  jam  superesse  calor  1 
Deficio,  subsido  :  dolor  !  dolor !  expirabo  !  40 

Jam  satis  est,  luctus  tu  tege,  terra,  meos. 


208  FRAGMENT  OF  A  SERIES  OF  ELEGIES, 


ELEGIA  VIII. 

Die  ubi  nunc  quod  amo  est !   ubinam  quod  semper 
amavi  ? 

Hei  mihi !  vel  quod  amo,  vel  quod  amabo  perit  1 
ISTon  perit :  ilia  prseit ;  sed  amans  sectatur  amantem  ; 

Hand  sequor,  baud  igitur  me  prseit ;  ergo  perit. 
Non  perit,  at  patrium  vivis  bibit  ^ethera  labris  :  5 

Me  solum  duplici  morte  perire  jubet. 
Sic  quod  anias  animas  1  quod  amas  sinis  ecce  perire  ; 

Si  sinis  boc,  cinis  est,  nam  calor  inde  fugit. 
Si  calor  bine  remeat,  mortis  me  frigus  adurit  : 

Die  ubi  sit  gemini  pectoris  unus  amor  1  10 

Tu  vel  ego^  duo  sunt?  non  sunt :  quid?  fallimur  ambo; 

Sint  duo,  non  duo  sunt,  una  vel  unus  eris. 
Una  vel  unus  ero  :  qui  legem  novit  amoris, 

Unum  non  uno  pectore  pectus  liabet. 
An  bene  dinumeras  1    Ego,  tu  ;  duo  nomina  tingis  :   1 5 

Ast  unum  duplici  nomine  numen  inest. 
JSTumen  inest ;  cor  corde  premit,  mentemque  maritat ; 

'Non  duo  tu  vel  ego,  sint  duo  corda  licet. 
Sim  tuus  et  mea  sis,  sint  vincula  bina  duorum  : 

Simus  et  bic  ambo  ;  non  tamen  ambo  simius.       20 
Quid  queror  !  baud  moreris  ;  duo  sunt  nam  corpore  in 
uno. 

Sic  vivum  nostro  corpore  corpus  babes  : 

1  See  former  note  :  ego.  G. 


FRAGMENT  OF  A  SERIES  OF  ELEGIES.  20!J 

Aut  ego  jam  perii,  duo  sunt  nam  corpore  in  uno ; 

Sic  mea  sunt  tumulo  membra  sepulta  tuo. 
Sed  neque  jam  morior,  neque  tecum  vivere  possum  :  25 

Hoc  vivo,  possum  quod  memor  esse  tui. 
Hoc  est,  quod  moriens,  rerum  pulcherrima,  dixti  : 

N'omen  tu  memori  pectore  semper  habe  ! 
Et  licet  liinc  absim,  sit  prajsens  conjuge  conjux  : 

Defungor ;  functa3  tu  quoque  vive  mihi.  30 

Dixi  ego,  ne  dubita,  memori  vivemus  amore, 

Quam  tuus  ipse  tuus,  tam  mea  semper  eris. 
Jam  mea  semper  eris,  licet  hie  mea  diceris  absens  ; 

Pectoribus  statuam  dicta  suprema  meis. 
Quamque  mihi  dictum,  tam  tu  mihi  semper  adha-res,  35 

Et  dicti  et  vitiB  mors  erit  una  meaj. 
Non  mihi  votorum  reddet  lux  ulla  tuorum 

Tffidia ;  quis  tantae  non  meminisse  potest  ? 
In  pra3sente  tamen  pra^sentem  qujero ;  quid  illud  ? 

Fascinor?  absenti  num  mihi  semper  ades?  40 

At  forsan  nequeunt  oculi  te  ferre  sequentes  ? 

Si  nequeo  visu  te,  modo  mente  feram. 
Aut  age  !  quod  menti  deerit,  supplebit  ocellus  : 

Sic  mens,  sic  oculus  testis  amoris  erit. 
Sic  animus  lamenta  dabit,  lacrimabit  ocellus  ;  45 

Commodus  ad  partes  fiet  uterque  meas, 
Quodque  animus  celat,  non  hoc  celabit  ocellus ; 

Mens  secum  tacite,  sed  gemet  ille  palam. 
Ite  palam,  lacrimal,  servati  pignus  amoris  ; 

Hie  mihi  leto  non  nisi  cedet  amor  :  cq 

EE 


210  FRAGMENT  OF  A  SERIES  OF  ELEGIES. 

Ite  palam,  gemino  dolor  hie  spectabitur  orbe  : 

Hie  dolor  est,  hie  est  qiiem  pins  auget  amor. 
Lamentor,  queror,  usque  queror,  gemo,  lugeo,  plango, 

Langueo  :  languorem  dicere  vultis  1  amo. 
Nunc  niolem  sine  mole  feram,  sine  pondere  pondus  ;  55 

Nunc  labor,  minima  nunc  ego  mole  gravor. 
Dicite  quid  sit  amor  1  i3ondusne  est,  an  mage  penna  1 

Penna  mihi  levis  est,  et  grave  pondus  amor. 
Excutio  pondus,  rapidis  me  intersero  pennis, 

Queis  vaga  sublimis  sidera  carpit  amor.  60 

Ah  amo  !  sed  quid  nam  1  vel  ubi  1  mea  sidera  novi : 

Hie  quod  amo  superest,  hue  volo,  terra,  vale. 


ELEGIA  IX. 

UMBRA  REGINiE  NOBILES  VIROS  DOCET,  QUID  SIT  DE 
REBUS  HISCE  FLUXIS  SENTIENDUM. 

Quid  conclamato  jacis  irrita  vota  sepulchro  ] 

Quam  petis,  in  vili  non  remoratur  humo. 
Nunc  ingens  crelorum  heres,  nunc  hospita  cajli, 

Affigo  superis  parta  troprea  polis 
Verte  alio  lacrimas,  sangiiis  meus,  inclytus  ordo,  5 

Inde  toga  gravior,  fortior  inde  sago. 
Plange  ;  sed  0  quid  nam  1     Stulti  ludibria  mundi ! 

Pars  magna  est  animi  forsitan  ille  tui. 
Quid  pretii  pretium  1     Quid  habet  decus  omne  decoris 

Non  sunt  ha-c  aninio  digna  ])otente  coli.  10 


FRAGMENT  OF  A  SERIES  OF  ELEGIES.  211 

Cernis  opes?     Picte  sunt  fuh^a  umbracula  massaj, 

Est  raptrix  animi  copia ;  cernis  opes. 
Divitiis  vitiis  inhias  1  reus  aureus  ipse  es  : 

Fies  inter  opes  non  nisi  semper  inops. 
Vauus  honor ;  tuniidi  sunt  oblectamina  sensus,  1 5 

Marcida  gloriol?e  pabula  ;  vanus  honor. 
Res  nulla  est,  bulla  est,  res  futilis,  utilis  illis 

Queis  inhonorus  honor  non  honor  est  sed  onus. 
Vana  Venus  ;  csecaj  sunt  irritamina  culpse. 

Dementis  mentis  toxica  ;  vana  Venus.  20 

Fallacem  faciem  cerussat  amaror  amoris, 

Dum  mala  proj^onit  mala  venusta  Venus. 
Este  procul  tellus,  et  inania  munera  terree ; 

Munera  non  ullo  respicienda  die. 
Pluma  volat :  pueri  totis  complexibus  instant.  2  5 

Umbra  fugit ;  pressus  preeterit  ilia  tuos. 
Eos  est ;  si  pelago  rapitur,  fit  protinus  unda. 
Unda 


The  four  following  poems  are  ■written  in  a  very  small,  care- 
ful hand,  on  a  fold  of  paper  (32mo)  of  eight  pages:  the  poems 
occui)y  three  pages  only.  G. 


JESUS.     MARYE. 

AD  DEUM  IN  AFf[lICTIONe]  :    ELEGIA. 

Tu  tacitas  nosti  lacrimas,  tu  saucia  cernis 

Pectora,  secreto  quod  cremer  igne  vides  ; 
Tu,  quoties  tristi  ducam  suspiria  corde, 

Tu,  quoties  pro  te  mors  milii  grata  foret. 
Yivo  tanien,  si  vita  potest  quam  duco  vocari,  5 

Quippe  cui^  mors  est  vivere,  vita  mori. 
Namque  procul  mea  vita  fugit  qua  vivere  vellem, 

Et  fera  qua  nollem  vivere  vita  venit : 
Usee  me  dum  lugio  sequitur,  fugit  ilia  sequentem. 

Persequor  et  fugio,  luctus  utrinque  milii ;  i  o 

Nee  fugiens  capior,  nee  euntem  carpere  possum. 

Hei  milii,  qui  versa  vivere  sorte  dabit ! 

'  Southwell  makes  'cni,'  according  to  very  late  usage,  an 
iambus,  cuJ,  whereas  in  the  silver  age,  Seneca,  Martial,  and 
Juvenal  first  began  to  use  it  as  a  dissyllable,  but  a  jiyrrbic 
dissyllable,  cvii.  G. 


JESUS.     MARYE.  213 


AD  SANCTAM  CATHERINAM,  VIRGINEM  ET  MARTYREM. 

Tu  Catherina,  mei  solatrix  unica  hictus, 

0  soror  et  Christi  sponsa  decora,  veni. 
Die  mihi  cur  tacitis  intus  miser  ignibiis  urar, 

Die  mihi  cur  mordax  viscera  luctiis  edat. 
Nonne  potes,  si  vis,  nostros  in  gaudia  fletus  5 

Vertere  1  quid  prohibet  1  tu,  Catherina,  potes, 
Quippe  sure  nunquam  sponsae  renegare  maritus 

Vel  mininnim  casto  quod  petit  ore  potest. 
Hue  igitur,  dilecta  Deo,  tua  lumina  flecte, 

Aspice  quam  multis  mens  [labet]  icta  malis.^  10 
Ferre  cito  O  digneris  opem,  pulcherrima  virgo, 

Atque  extinguendis  ignibus  afFer  aquas. 
Cui  Deus  injussus  venit  obvius,  ipsa  rogata, 

Quteso,  veni  nobis  mitis,  ut  ipse  tibi. 
Quoque  tuum  pepulit^  Christus  medicamine  morbum,  1 5 

Hoc  nostro  luctum  pectore  pelle,  precor. 
(Ximque  dolor  similis,  quae  te  medicina  juvaret^ 

Cur  potius  nostris  asset  inepta  malis  ? 
Si  mihi  concedas,  dubio  procul  angor  abibit, 

Quaeque  tibi  fuerat,  nunc  erit  apta  mihi.  20 

Virgo  sancta,  vale,  Christi  sanctissima  martyr, 

Terque  quaterque  vale,  sisqiie  benigna  mihi. 

•  Tliis  line  is  defective :  '  labet'  filled  in  to  complete  it :  '  ruat' 
or  '  cadat'  will  do  equally  well.  G. 

-  In  the  MS.  Southwell  wrote  '  pepulit,'  and  changed  it  him- 
self to  '  repiilit :'  but  the  former  seems  better.  G. 

■'  Or  juvabat  niis-writteu  juvavit.    The  perfect  is  juvit.  G. 


214  JESUS.     MAR  YE. 


IN  RENOVATIONEM  VOTORUM,  FESTIS  NATALIS  DOMINI. 

Vita  venit,  vitse  cum  votis  obvius  ito, 

Et  veniet  votis  obvia  vita  tuis. 
Vita  quod  est  tibi  dat,  tu  vitaj  redde  teipsiim, 

Et  tibi  per  vitam  vita  j)erennis  erit. 
At  quinam  poteris  melius  te  reddere  vit^e, 

Quam  si,  qui  vita  est,  des  tua  vota  Deo  ] 
Des  igitur  tua  vota  Deo,  dabit  ijjse  seipsum, 

Et  reddet  votis  prtemia  viva^  tuis. 


IN  FESTUM  PENTECOSTES,  ANNO  DOMINI   1580,   2  1    MAIL 

PosTQUAM,  tartarei  spoliis  ditatus  Averni, 
Vi  propria  superas  Cliristus  rediisset  ad  auras, 
Divino  angelicas  inter  splendore  phalanges 
Conspicuus  summas  creli  se  tollit  in  arces. 
Tamque  expectatum  cajlestis  turba  triunipbuni  5 

Aspicit,  atque  hominum  longi  pars  mortua  luctus 
Pra^mia  degustat.     8olus  miser  incola  terrse 
Angustam  patitur  sortem,  duroque  laborum 
Pondere  depressus,  querulo  petit  ore  juvantem. 
liespice  sublimi  clemens  de  sede  gementes  i  o 

In  terris  populos.     Cur  nos  ardentibus  ustos 
Curarum  flammis  et  saucia  corda  gerentes 

'  The  MS.  reads  vita,  but  wi'ongly :  and  we  substitute  '  viva.' 
G. 


JESUS.     MA  RYE.  215 

Deseris?  liei  miseris  quis  nos  solabitur  ultra? 
Sufficit  exilium,  patrii(£ue  absentia  regui ; 
Sufficiimt  varii  casus  diuturna(|ue  poina  15 

Quam  caro,  quam  iiiundus,  quani  daiinonis  impetus  in- 

fert. 
Si  plura  imponas,  nimia  sub  mole  gravati 
Decidimus  ;  sed  et  ha3c  propria'  virtute  nequimus 
Ferre,  nisi  [et]  nostras  divina  potentia  mentes 
Fulciat,  et  tenues  confirmet  numine  vires.  20 

Eja  igitur,  celer  hue  pietatis  lumina  flecte, 
Ut,  qui  cailicolas  dulci  solaminis  aura 
Perfundis,  Limbique  patres  sperata  tenere 
Pr^mia  concedis,  media  regione  locatos 
Haud  ma^stos  remanere  sinas,  sed  qualia  saltern  25 

Mens  humana  potest,  carnis  complexa  catenis, 
Gaudia  tarn  varios  inter  gustare  dolores, 
ISTon  renuas  ;  ut,  te  triplicem  solante  catervam, 
Te  triplici  laudet  ctelum,  Styx,  terra,  camena. 

Has  adeo  msestas  pietas  divina  querelas  30 

Suscipiens,  miserum  placido  medicamine  morbum 
Atque  infelices  statuit  curare  ruinas. 
Expansis  igitur  sacrse  penetralibus  aul^e, 
Tertia  de  superis  placido  persona  meatu 
Sedibus  egreditur,  tenuesque  elapsa  per  auras  35 

Versus  apostolicuni  properans  se  contulit  agmen. 


ADDITIONAL  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

1.  As  stated  in  Memorial-Inti-oductiou  fp.  Ixxxvi.j,  I  hem 
give  the  remainiug  interlineations  and  studies  for  St.  Peter's 
Complaint  from  the  Stonyhurst  autograph  mss.,  as  follows: 


The  bowes  which  [shott  the  fa  . .  . — erased]  leveld  at  his  dolful 

brest  [sic] 
The  sharpest  arows  and  most  deadly  flyghtes 
Were  theis  of  Chryste,  when  they  on  him  did  rest 
These  ey[erased]  were  bowes  there  lookes  lyke  arowes  lyght 
Which  not  content  to  hurt  his  heavy  hart 
glanced  to  the  Soule 
Even  pea  lanced  the  Sowle  [erased]  and  wounded  in  such  wise 

he  was  fayne  till 
That  al  his  dayes  while  life  did  quyte  departe 

so  still 

He  oynted  it  with  liquour  of  his  eies. 

[Ill  margin — To  nynt  the  wounde  to  liath  the  sores.] 

VKRSE  III. 

This  verse  it  is  difficult  to  copy. 

once  to  a  minion  bold  face 

Thre  severall  tymes  [twyse — erased]  by  two  handmades  woyce 

Next  to  a  man  last  to  that  levyl  [or  renyl]  rout 
[And  last  by  meanes  of  that  accursed  crue — erased] 

bought  [sic]  he  was  not  of  the  fold 

He  sed  and  swore  [that  he  new  folower  was,  made  his  choisc — 
erased]. 

adliereiits  never 

Of  Chrysts  whome  he  [denyed  that  he  knew — erased] 
[To  folowe  Chryst  a  man  he  never  knew — erased] 
But  when 

The  cocke  had  chased  out  this  [stubborne — erased]  brail 
as  thing 

[thrall  ?J  and  brought  in  day  for  witnes  of  the  cryme 


218  ADDITIONAL  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


[When  as — erased]  the  [whe— erased]  wretch  scarse  luarkyuL 
stubborn 
yet  his  fall 
Did  with  his  eies  meete  theies  of  Christ  his  King. 


In  what  distresse  pore  peater  did  remayne 

At  this  encountrynge  ech  with  others  eies 

Let  no  man  vant  that  he  cann  make  it  playne 

No  tunge  can  reache  the  truthe  scarce  mynde  surmyse 

It  seemed  that  Chryst  amids  that  juysh  crew 

Forlorne  of  frends  these  speaches  did  reherse 

Behold  that  which  I  sayed  is  now  to  viewe 

O  freude  disloyall,  disciple  fierce. 


No  youthful  dame  her  beautuouse  face  in  glasse 
Of  christall  brj'ghtnes  did  so  wel  discrye  easely  prie 
As  thy  old  sely  wret  did  in  this  passe 

foul  de- 
In  th'  eies  of  Chryst  his  filthy  fait  espye 
Nor  egi*e  eare  though  covetous  to  heare 

preaclie 
And  without  pause  attent  to  teachers  speache 
Could  learne  so  much  in  twyce  two  hundi-ed  yeares 

in  a  turne 
As  with  one  looks  he  did  in  moment  reach. 

VERSE  VI.  ETC. 

Lyke  as  sometyme  (though  it  unworthy  be 

To  lyken  sacred  matters  with  profane) 

[In  margin — Profaned  things  in  holy  talk  to  name] 
By  lookes  a  lover  secret  thoughtes  can  se 

And  searche  the  hart  thoughe  it  no  wordes  do  frame 
Let  amorous  knyghts  traynd  up  in  cupids  schoole 
Teache  those  which  are  unskilful  in  this  art 
How  without  usynge  tong  or  wrytynge  toole 
By  lookes  the  lovers  know  ech  others  hart 
The  eies  may  serve  for  to  display  the  hart 
Ech  eie  of  Chryst  a  running  tungue  did  seeme 

ech  lyk  a  listning 
And  peters  eis  so  many  eagi*e  eared 

[In  margin— Eche  ey  of  peter  like  a  listninge  eare] 


ADDITIONAL  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  219 

Prest  to  receyue  the  voyce  and  it  esteame 

According  to  that  sense  that  it  should  heare 

More  fierce  he  seemed  to  say  ar  thy  eis 

Then  the  impious  hands  which  shall  naile  me  on  the  crosse 

Nether  feele  I  any  blow  which  do  so  annoy  me 

Of  so  many  which  this  gylty  rable  doth  on  me  lay 

As  that  blow  which  came  out  of  thy  mouth. 

None  faythful  found  I  none  courteous 

Of  so  many  that  I  have  vouchsafned  to  be  myne 

But  thow  in  whome  my  was  more  kyndled  [sic] 

Ai-t  faythlesse  and  ungi*atefull  above  all  other 

All  other  with  there  (cowardly)  flyght  did  onely  ofifend  me 

my 
But  thow  hast  denyed  and  now  with  the  other  [foes]  ghilty 
Standest  feedynd  thy  eies  with  my  damage  [and  sorowes] 
As  though  pai-t  of  this  pleasur  belonged  unto  the. 

ANOTHER  VERSE. 

Who  by  one  and  one  could  count 

The  wordes  of  wrath  and  of  love  full 

Which  peter  seemed  to  se  imprinted 

In  the  holy  gyi-e  [compasse]  those  two  calme  eyes,  it  would 

make  him  brast  that  could  understand  [conceive]  them : 
For  if  from  mortall  eie  often  cometh 
Virtue,  which  hath  force  in  us.  He  which  proveth  [this]  let  him 

gesse 
Wliat  an  eie  divyne  [or  of  God]  is  able  to  worke  in  man's  senses. 

As  a  fold  [or  feld?]  of  snow  which  frosen 

The  winter  in  close  valew  hiddyn  laye 

At  the  sprynge  tyde  of  the  son  heated 

Doth  quyte  melt  and  resolve  into  water 

So  the  feare  which  enterred  was  in  the  frozen  heart 

Of  peter  then  when  the  ti"uth  he  conceled 

When  toward  him  his  eies  he  turned 

Did  quyte  thaw  and  unto  teares  was  resolved. 

He  [.s/c]  teres  or  weepyng  were  not  as  river  or  torrent 
Which  at  the  scorchyng  hot  season  could  ever  dry  upp 
For  though  Chryst  Kyng  of  heaven  immayntenant 
Did  retornc  him  the  gi-ace  which  he  had  lost 
Yet  all  the  remnant  of  his  lyfe 


220  ADDITIONAL  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

There  was  never  nyght  but  therein  he  did  wake 

Herynge  the  cock  tell  him  how  unfayful  he  had  hen 

And  gevinge  new  teares  to  his  old  fait 

That  face  which  litle  before  had  ben 

Attyned  with  the  coloure  of  death 

By  reason  of  the  blood  which  was  retyred  to  the  harte 

Levyng  th'  other  parts  cold  and  pale 

Of  the  beames  of  those  holy  eies  warmed 

as  red  as  fyre 
Waxed  flame  and  by  the  same  dores 
That  feare  entred  it  vanished  away 
And  in  his  due  place  shame  appeared 
Vewj'nge  the  wi-ech  how  diverse 
From  his  former  state  he  founde  him  self 
His  hart  not  sufi'ysyng  him  to  stand  there  presente 
Before  his  offended  lord  that  so  had  loved  him 
Without  taryance  for  the  fierce  or  mercyful 
Sentence  which  the  hard  tribunal  seat  did  give  on  him 
From  that  odious  house  hated  bouse  that  then  he  was  in 
Weepyng  bitterlj'  he  went  forth 

And  desyi-ous  to  encounter  some  that  just  penance  [and  payn] 
Would  geve  him  for  his  grevous  error. 

2.  In  the  Stonyhurst  sis.  of  a  Discourse  on  Mary  Magdalene, 
these  stanzas  are  wi-itten  by  themselves  by  Southwell — the 
second  incomplete : 

The  Shippe  that  from  the  port  doth  sayle 
And  lanceth  in  the  tyde 
Must  many  a  billow's  boystrous  brunt 
And  stormy  blast  abyde. 

The  tree  that  groweth  on  the  hill 
And  bye  dothe  shoot  his  bowes 
Besyde  the  danger  of  the  axe, 

3.  '  Josephe's  Amazement,'  st.  ii.-vi.  (pp.  122-3).  Joseph's 
intention  of  flight  is  mentioned  in  Pseudo  Matt.  ch.  x.  xi. :  and 
with  I'eference  to  this  and  Southwell's  use  of  such,  it  may  here 
be  noted  that  the  Protevangel  or  Apoc.  Gosj^el  was  (then)  new 
to  the  Latin  Church,  being  first  published  in  Latin  in  1552,  and 
BO  an  object  of  curiosity  to  our  Poet,  who  seems  to  have  been 
well-read.  (See  p.  132.)' 


ADDITIONAL  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  221 


4.  SocTHWELL  uses  '  sight'  as  =  the  instrument  or  organ  of 
sight,  i.  e.  the  eye.  Richardson  and  the  Lexicographers  give  no 
example  of  such  use,  and  it  may  therefore  be  well  to  confinn 
the  sense  and  use,  Fii-st,  Shakespeakk  (Venus  and  Adonis,  lines 

181-4) : 

And  now  Adonis,  with  a  lazy  spright, 
And  with  a  heavy,  dark,  disliking  eye  ; 
His  louring  brows  o'erwhelming  his  fair  sight. 
Like  misty  vapours  when  they  blot  the  sky. 

Again  (Coriol.  ii.  1) : 

All  tongues  speak  of  him,  and  the  bleared  sights 
Are  spectacled  to  see  him. 

Once  more,  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  (iii.  2) : 

And  laid  the  love-juice  on  some  true-love's  sight. 

Similarly  we  use  '  sight'  as  the  eye  opening  or  instrument  of 

seeing,  of  optical  instruments :  and  so  Shakespeare : 

Their  eyes  of  fire  sparkling  through  sights  of  steel. 

2  Heniy  IV.  iv.  1.     (See  p.  155.) 

5.  '  Silly'  (see  p.  176 :  note  on  st.  i.  line  4  of  '  I  die  without 
Desert').  The  translator  of  The  Rogue  or  Life  of  Don  Guzman 
D'Alfarache,  though  a  Spaniard,  was  as  gi-eat  a  master  of  col- 
loquial idiomatic  English  as  Florio,  and  I  think  there  is  a  clear 
example  of  silly =pavoreux,  as  late  as  1629.  Speaking  of  the 
innkeeper  who  is  afraid  that  his  mule  veal  will  he  discovered, 
Guzman  says  (b.  i.  c.  v.) :  '  This  poor  Rogue  (albeit  a  very  vil- 
laine)  pardned  in  roguery,  and  habituated  in  mischiefe,  and 
being  steeped,  and  lyen  long  in  soke  (as  it  were),  in  thefts,  and 
all  kinde  of  coozenages,  was  now  out  of  heart,  and  gi-ew  silly 
and  weake-spii-ited,  and  was  ready  to  quake  for  feare.  Besides, 
such  kinde  of  men  are  commonly  cowards,  and  have  onely  an 
outside  of  men,  but  no  manhood  at  all.'  The  context  quoted 
points  to  this  meaning,  and  nothing  in  the  rest  of  the  context 
at  all  shows  that  he  got  foolish  or  silly  in  our  present  sense  of 
the  word. 

6.  In  the  '  Month'  for  January-February  1872  appeared  an 
'  Elegy  on  Edmund  Campion'  from  a  black-letter  contemporary 
volume  in  the  British  Museum,  where  it  forms  one  of  several. 
Thereupon  a  correspondent  in  the  '  Tablet'  assigned  reasons  for 
ascribing  it  to  Southwell,  and  received  support  from  other  well- 
known  and  accomplished  critics.    But  a  Letter  from  my  admir- 


222  ADDITIONAL  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

able  friend  Kev.  S.  Sole,  of  St.  Mary's  College,  Oscott,  Birming- 
ham, in  '  Tablet'  for  Feb.  24th,  shows  that  the  external  data 
are  against  such  authorship,  while  the  internal  goes  to  prove 
that  the  Writer  (probably  Walpole,  S.  J.)  must  have  been  an 
eye-witness  of  the  martyrdom,  which  Southwell  could  not  have 
been.  It  must  be  admitted  that  there  are  Southwellian  words 
and  turns  in  the  Elegy:  but  his  non-authorship  is  equally  cer- 
tain. G. 


THE  END. 


LONDON : 
KOUhON  AND  SONS,  ruiNTKRS,  PANCHAS  KOAD,  N.W.